


La Doleur Exquise

by Epiphany_7



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Character Development, Character Study, Cheeky and Snarky Killua, Fake/Pretend later chaps, Fluff and Humor, Heavy flirting/Teasing, M/M, Outright spoiled Killua, Possessive!Gon, Post-Breakup AU, Rating May Change, Romance, Romantically-Introvert Killua, Self-Indulgent, Slow Burn, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, determined and smooth as hell Gon, elusive!Gon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-08-19
Packaged: 2019-05-06 04:52:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14634504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Epiphany_7/pseuds/Epiphany_7
Summary: La Doleur Exquise - The heart-wrenching exquisite pain of wanting the affection of someoneyoubelieve is unattainable (drug-like addiction)Five years apart following their break-up, just when Killua thought he had burned all the bridges between them for good, Gon crashes into Killua’s life and rattles him to his inner core leaving him stunned. And a mess.Could something serve as a potential catalyst to breathe life into their withered relationship? Could it bud afresh?





	1. Wish I Knew How to Quit You

**Author's Note:**

> The ONE Problem: Ex-lovers who _apparently_ can’t be together anymore.  
>  Yet, a million-fold worse scenario?  
> Discovering its downright impossible to stay apart otherwise. 
> 
> Hey! So, this concept of killugon post-breakup au has been levitating in my mind for some time. Guess I just want to explore more about the dynamics and the magnetic chemistry of killugon liaison with this fic. It will be concomitant with flashbacks (not in the first chapter) to get a feel for the layering and depth of their relationship pre-breakup and how that influences their current “behaviours” ;) If only they learn to behave (in their own ways). I have a rock-solid plot for this fic and if my own loafing unmotivated self doesn't get in the way, it should come to fruition soon enough! Couple o' pointers below to get you in the groove. 
> 
> 1\. Business au with elite hunters-elites don't go on missions anymore unless all else fails.  
> 2\. Killua's the ultimate kingpin of the Zoldyck empire now and has left his life as a hunter behind. Whatever he says, goes.  
> 3\. Gon got his nen back through will-power alone and a near-death experienced training regimen pre-breakup. Nothing big. Simply love entertaining the possibility of toying with their nen  
> 4\. Killua has no idea what the hell Gon does nor where he is until...
> 
> (I’m struggling through…a rocky phase in my life so just want to curl in for a while, write killugon and smile. So I’m aiming for a lengthy fic with a bonus to practice my writing after an embarrassingly long time though it’s probably irrecoverably rusty now). Still, here’s to hoping you enjoy! (even if just). Please feel more than welcome to hit me with comments, kudos, etc. I’m all ears :)

_Stateliness on a global scale_. The first thought that crossed Killua’s mind with a fairly sound reasoning behind it. Dim gold expensive lights dancing through the gigantic decorated halls casting sunkissed temperate hues on any and everything in its course. A luxurious chandelier could be seen sparkling from the centre of the domed ceiling. The ceiling itself being engrained with intricate designs immaculately met with the highest standards cause Killua knows standards, alright. Then again, the silver prodigy has seen better ones in the dining rooms back in the Zoldyck mansion. _Eh_.

Regardless, the red-velvet exquisite draperies hanging over the large glass floor-length windows and polished sleek ecru-tiled floors scream royalty. Countless tables laden with bone china cutlery and cuisines Killua has never even heard the names of before. People loitering in sumptuous attires, women practically glittering with diamonds while men shining in their alarmingly pristine tuxedos, sipping on expensive champagne and nibbling on food—that Killua had a hard time pronouncing—good-manneredly while making small-talk.

Why is he here, anyway? Oh, right. Two words. _Goddamn Professionalism._ Killua had returned back to the Zoldyck empire though he was resolute in remaining a hunter on a personal level. He has now become the official heir of the Zoldyck "business" at the sweet age of twenty-three. The Zoldyck empire has undergone an entire metamorphosis under Killua’s ultimate authority. He had proscribed all shady activities as soon as he was able and finally led a business that was actually considered _legit_. However, it came at a price. Stigmas tethered to the Zoldyck name—vile and unnerving enough to mention— have proven understandably difficult to excorticate despite Killua’s genuine efforts.

Currently, he's attending an international business gala rotated every year to represent the Zoldyck name, one of the world’s richest corporations of all time. More specifically, he's completely overtaxed with bloodshot eyes—totally justifiable—what with trying to clear level 87 of the wretched _evil_ game. A game in which the sword weilding, patch-eyed bastard repeatedly dies _on purpose_ , explaining why he's been so engrossed in his phone for the past hour or so. All the while, people relentlessly coming onto him, try kissing his shoes to get in his good books. Really though, _Who are they kidding?_

He remains seated with no need for formalities of an introduction. People are aware of his name, his presence, his sombre attitude towards everything as business, nothing more, nothing less. Oh, how he tried to try to lose the snippy attitude but he can't help his innate characteristics, or so he rationalises. At least, he's proud of himself for mastering the art of façade, ample to get him through the thicks and thins of life and associated hell. 

And if history is any indication, he should cope just fine.

Killua had been aware from a very young age that all this world wants is to knock you down for good. Though someone who has already been swept off their feet once can never fall for the same trick twice. Never again, hurts too damn much. _Huh. Guess I’ve got too much free time on my end if I’m thinking…things_? Killua glances down at the inestimable watch curled around his wrist, lamely looking for something to entertain himself while waiting for the host to arrive, having no luck so far. _Seriously, what the hell?_

As Killua continues contemplating, he catches his reflection in the costly mirror hung on the wall right next to the bar where Killua’s lodged, unsurprisingly. He can’t help but be impressed by how neat he looks tonight despite being nothing out of the ordinary. His sleek black tuxedo does absolute justice to his lithe slender but defined frame with his silk mauve tie, now loosened around his semi-spread collar. He always wanted to inherit his father’s muscular physique but then again, one can’t have everything the heart desires and Killua knows this perhaps a bit too well.

His silver tufts are out of control as per usual, and he lets it be since it's his trademark. Killua wouldn’t be Killua if it weren’t for his moon-lit hair or his breath-taking sapphire orbs, deep and naively licentious to make a soul fall for them in a beat. Experience taught him as much.

His silver and gold chain dangling around his pale neck is barely visible with a pendant bearing a lightning symbol hidden underneath his black dress shirt. Overall, he looks the kind of person who owns the very definition of class. Killua could have anyone wrapped around his slender finger with one glimpse being more than enough. He already noticed girls, guys, older women and men alike throwing suggestive glances his way the entire evening since no one has the audacity to look him directly in those sharp sapphires.

Except he’s felt a surreptitious pair of eyes on him ever since he entered the building. At first, Killua brushed it off but it seems they are a rather persistent piece of shit. Killua subtly tried to take in all the guests but no one stood out as a threat or something Killua should be hyperaware of.

Everyone mostly cares about getting to sign a billion-jenny deal, soberly get drunk, enjoy flirtatious conversations, or dance their feet to red swollen blisters. Killua wants to give them the slip and ambush once his stalker comes out of hiding but dismisses the fleeting thought because it’s too much work. That, and he simply cannot bring himself to care. Though something continues nagging him at the back of his mind that he should, that something could be very out of place.

Still, he never seems to be interested in anyone he meets or doesn’t get to meet. He has no longing for anyone anymore, no matter how many times he’s been praised. Faithfully or lustfully. He doesn’t care as no one has ever struck him out of the ordinary.

_No one ever will after…_

He can never hold a torch for anyone since the person who used to take Killua’s breath away just by his mere presence in the same space as Killua’s. Those molten irises burning Killua to his very core. That smile, sometimes innocent enough to put a baby to shame and at other times, deviant enough that the devil itself would shy away. His smooth lilted voice acting as a soothing lullaby for Killua’s attentive ears.

Killua chuckles lowly, shaking his head as he leans back, his blue eyes getting glossed over while his cheeks hint a soft blush. Even today, he can’t get over his embarrassment concerning this particular individual. Killua could kill someone in a flash with a blindfold on but apparently, he failed to form a coherent sentence whenever this person’s gold irises crashed into his azures. Searching for—and discovering—secrets even he wasn’t sure he had.

It was torture, Killua argued at times. But even if it was, he wouldn’t have minded being a sufferer for life by this kind of torment. The warm, sincere and genuine winsomeness that got Killua weak at the knees. The undivided concern, attention and possessiveness meant only for Killua. An ex-assassin prodigy who knew nothing if not to kill efficiently, knew nothing about emotions other than instilling fear, dread and hate in his opponents.

For someone like him to be coddled like a baby was unheard of. Killua never knew before what it was like to be taken care of, to be loved. To love. The ex-assassin probably never got used to it either, thinking one day he would wake up from this exaggerated fantasy. He muses how one can separate from such an entity who shook your whole world upside down.

Those feels, lingering touches, ghosting breaths on each other’s bodies, panting. Those breathy sweet nothings whispered on damp skin that more often than not, were _everything_ to them, way past the threshold of oneness.

 _Get a grip on yourself! Focus. Geez! Hasn’t even struck nine yet and I'm already losing it._ Killua crouches from his position on a bar stool, his elbow resting on the burgundy edge of the counter as he sips on his wine, seemingly content with his other hand concealed in his jacket, enjoying the soft orchestra being played through the speakers.

Most of the so-called “elites” gathered are middle aged leaving Killua, once again, alone to fend for himself. Not that he minds, he rather prefers this than engaging in idle talk feigning interest in affairs of the world. Hell be damned if he couldn't turn the economic status of the world in a full spin on the push of a button but he’s got enough on his plate already. Rising to the ranks of a consistent top scorer in the gaming world doesn’t happen overnight. It requires a dash of commitment, an ounce of effort and a preposterously big stash of chocorobos-kun. Yes, Killua never outgrew them and he never will.

Besides, he’d rather exercise his energy in training his body, mind and soul since he knows beyond a doubt, he still has an unexplored room for potential which he hasn’t yet tapped into. He gets easily distracted nowadays. _Recently maybe? Weeks, years? Huh. I stopped counting, I gue-_

“Hello, Mr. Zoldyck! I hope you’re enjoying your evening?” A fifty-ish year old male engages him in yet another small talk for the umpteenth time today. _Is he the one who’s been stalking me? Nah._ A light chop to his saggy neck and he'd be done for good. _Ah well, they’d have to show up sometime if they’re this interested to stalk me constantly for two hours straight. Dumbass._

“Yes, actually, it’s quite relaxing, Mr…” Killua replies from his position, forgetting his name like every other person in the hall today. Not bothering to stand up, he regards him with a handshake which counts for more than enough in Killua's improvised book of etiquettes.

“Mr. Rey.” Comes the curt reply.

“Well of course, Mr. Rey. How may I be of assistance?” Killua enquires _politely._

“Oh son, I was wondering if you’ve partnered with F.G. Industries since you’re present here? After all, they are hosting the event in this year's rotation.”

“Hm? Not yet, we’ve been asked to attend this seminar gala to consider their offer of a 50/50 partnership-”

“What?! But you two are one of the world’s largest businesses. If you form a conglomerate, then what about the rest of us?! Son, be wary. I heard the owner is a mystery man who stays in the shadows! No one truly knows his name either! We even hear he’s got many fronts. In fact, me and my colleagues are here to see-”

The blabbering continues as Killua suddenly feels the same unfamiliar presence and astute eyes on him. He whips his head at the source only to frown when he sees no one, yet again. The same folks going about their business. Literally.

“Well then, good luck. Now if you’ll excuse me. You see, I have to take this call.” Agitated, Killua excuses himself while flashing his fancy phone to get away from the greedy man with an annoyingly high-pitched voice. _I might as well partner with this FG Ind. just to piss off these losers._ Though it has Killua intrigued. _I heard piggy telling me some-Oh shit. The feeling’s gone again. Come out in the open, you whimp!_

Just then, Killua spots the majestic ornate glass doors opening out into the vast balcony and sighs, ambling over to get some fresh air. The balcony is graced with the same gold lights flickering throughout its expanse. It’s amazing really, being as lavishly designed as the interior. _Who is the owner of these premises, anyway? F.G. Industries, huh?_ The building supposedly belongs to the owner of F.G. Ind. who’s apparently running late but should be arriving shortly, the last announcement made two hours ago.

The crisp cool air of the night breeze ruffles Killua’s hair akin to a white dandelion poking in the dark. The atmosphere seems too romantic for his liking and he tilts his head up for a moment at the starless indigo sky, draped in light emitting from his crescent relative. Outside, thirty stories high, he can see the buildings illuminated by a cascade of brilliant lights as if lit by stilled fireflies. The looming mountains surrounding the city further enhance the already present splendour.

The spectacle is appeasing to the eye causing something familiar to churn in Killua's stomach. It makes him remind things he’d much rather forget. Only that he can’t. He’s been dug in too deep. It’s too late. The only thing he can do is force himself to breathe, to stay alive at the very least. Does he even deserve to live, anyway? After what he’s done. To the person he couldn’t even bear to see a scratch on unless formed by Killua himself.

Ironically, he ended up being the one who broke his heart instead. 

_I’m pathetic._ Five years since they separated and yet Killua often complains to himself why it still hurts like it’s only been yesterday, as if the time they spent together was just around the corner. _Why has he corrupted my soul?_

Who would’ve thought Killua Zoldyck could be swayed so effortlessly. Still, if it was by him, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise. _I wonder how he’d be? How does he look like now? Probably somewhere exciting, intriguing. With someone intriguing._

Mislaid by his own thoughts, Killua walks over to the balustrade, leaning his arms over it and clasping both hands together while looking at nowhere in particular. He hasn’t been in touch with Leorio or Kurapika for all these years either and thinking about them brings a soft smile on his lips.

The chill gradually seeps through the satin layering and settles in his flesh though his jacket suffices as a good enough barrier against the icy cold gusts of wind. He lifts his index finger and swirls the billows of white smoke puffing through his lips, signalling the evident drop in temperature. Killua glances around, eyebrows furrowing upon finding himself as the sole guest in the voluminous balcony. Surely, it wasn’t off limits considering the opened doors and no one blocking him on his way out. Besides, it seems more pleasant outside to be fair, absently wondering why no one preferred the outdoors, not that he's complaining.

Eventually, he begins drifting away, reminiscing about things, memories that he has safely tucked in the deepest confines of his mind only to pull out in solitude, like now. To savour in them like he savours in his chocorobo-kun. He could easily spend his life with these memories—and sweets—as his sole company. Six years’ worth of memories. Compassion. Love.

_Gon_

Killua’s first and most definitely last relationship ever. With his best friend. Boyfriend. Soulmate. _Gon Freecs._ Best friends since twelve. Entered in a relationship at sixteen. Budding into something completely anew neither of them had ever experienced before. They could understand each other before the words could be processed by their own brains. They shared something that could not be concluded in a single word. Their first night of passion still etched in Killua’s brain as naturally as his own name. Heat. Desire. Lust. Sex. These words couldn't even scratch the surface of what their history has hidden for good.

Gon was admittedly the more overtly passionate of the two. Needless to say, Killua was at the top of his game except…Gon Freecs was on a whole other level. It baffled Killua on so many occasions when he was being ravished from the inside out. Their training routines starting ever so innocent and fierce. Killua still can’t figure out how a duel of Nen ended up becoming a battle of craving where Gon always took the cake with Killua’s flustered reactions serving as a cherry on top, for Gon's consumption only. 

Killua thinks of those nights—days alike—where he could barely think, feel, stand let alone walk and his breath hitches. _Am I not over this even now? Will I ever be?_

Now, Gon is his ex. All because of Killua. He was too much of a coward to turn the tables around. He had the chance, but he was too afraid to take a leap of faith. Though he never cared about himself. It was all for Gon’s sake, if only Gon knew, if only he understood. But all Gon said was…nothing. Silence. Emptiness. He didn’t demand Killua to explain himself despite having the right to. He didn’t accuse Killua of anything and one day, Gon was gone and out of the picture. Out of Killua’s life forever, away from Killua, for Killua’s sake.

However, Gon never got to know why he left and Killua will never forgive himself for not being able to explain himself for letting—no, forcing—Gon to leave. For letting Gon know Killua’s worthlessness, his incapacity to fight for his love, his life. Yet, Killua saw a scintilla of something deep ignite in those gold irises he'll never forget till he dies. A dark, hidden brewing anger diverted at…Killua? At Gon himself? Killua never got to know, never got to ask and now he never will. What right did he have, anyway? 

_He lost his right when he lost his everything that night._

______________________________________

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
______________________________________

Killua absently weaves his hand through his hair, enjoying the silky ashen locks in his numbing fingers- 

“Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Killua’s hand skids to an abrupt stop. The unmistakable yet even deeper voice—smoother than the finest silk—collides with Killua’s ears with an insurmountable pressure and bleeds into his brain. Killua’s beside himself at the sudden confided company so he doesn’t think once as he whirls his head around to take in the sight before him.

For the first time in his life, Killua Zoldyck feels like an empty slate in terms of both his mind and body, incapable of thought or emotion.

There, next to the doors opening into the halls, a painfully familiar silhouette can be seen leaning against the wall, cloaked in shadow with one foot rooted to the ground while the other resting on the wall behind, arms folded loosely across his chest. Those gold-plated irises staring at Killua intently, patiently.

As if they have all the time in the world and more.

Killua would have thought it to be impossible if he wasn’t witnessing first-hand how Gon has gotten even more handsome. Clad in a silk, exquisite rich black suit with a dark emerald shirt complementing his attire a bit too perfectly, a silken dark vest covering his shirt and his well-built chest.

Once again, Gon Freecs takes Killua’s breath away.

Killua distantly notes with what little semblance of thought he’s managed to retain that his attire looks as decent—if not more—as Killua’s. It’s odd because Killua distinctly remembers Gon never giving much regard to his appearance, leaving Killua to fuss over Gon’s clothes along with his own. Since both were elite hunters and certainly earning more than deemed necessary, affording wasn’t ever an issue. Gon simply didn’t like wasting money on superfluous stuff like over-the-top brands for clothes and shoes.

Nevertheless, Killua’s having a hard time processing anything as he gawks wide-eyed at the bronze figure before him. Gon has emphatically gotten more build now. Nothing too burly, only temptingly refined, broad shoulders and chiselled with perfectly angular cuts that does absolutely no favours to Killua’s consternation. Gon carries an intimidating aura though his innocence prevails over his dominating presence.

Well, until he reveals an enigmatic smirk waking Killua up from his ephemeral mental breakdown. Gon continues gazing at him, apparently allowing him time to recover from whatever it is he needs to recover from. Yet, it has the opposite effect as Killua shrinks back with his heart galloping at a pace beyond the bounds of possibility and physiology alike. An uninvited image of the very body before his eyes over his own pops up and forces him to recall feeling those muscles against his own.

Thus, not being able to do anything significant in his current condition, Killua opts to lean back and use his trembling fists to grip the railing behind, supporting him, if only just.

“Gon.” He chokes out. A dainty syllable holding the weight of both worlds.

“Hey. Long time, huh?” Gon smiles, still leaning against the wall as he stares at Killua in a vaguely analytical way, almost.

Killua swallows. “Y-Yeah. W-what are you doing here?” Killua manages. He can’t be concerned with sounding articulate while trying to catch his winded breath simultaneously. 

_What the hell is he doing here?!_

“Oh. I’m here on someone’s request who couldn’t make it today. I’m supposed to finalize a deal regarding the financial stuff with the hunter’s association in his stead.” Gon answers in a deep baritone with a nonchalant shrug, as if they haven't just crossed paths after a _brutal_ break-up, as if he's over and done with it. More rightly, as if he's over and done with Killua. Still, he smiles ever so slightly making Killua want to just cross the torturous distance and leap over in his arms.

He doesn’t. He remains stationary, grounded in place. It’s not like he has a choice in the matter either since he could hardly move an inch with his feet feeling heavier than lead.

“Hm.” Killua hums dumbly not knowing how else to reply when he couldn’t even pay attention to what he said. Killua’s heart thudding painfully in his chest causes heat to rise along his neck and flush his cheeks in the process. He sincerely hopes that Gon doesn’t catch his inner state like he used to. It’s been awhile, after all. He might have forgotten-

In a flash, Gon materializes in front of him, his hands gripping the balustrade on either side of Killua, effectually trapping him in place, grip strong enough for his knuckles to turn bone-white. Killua’s thought process goes out the window as he stares, dumbfounded, at his ex who is mere inches from his face, regarding him again with a look that Killua can’t seem to place.

Killua’s vivid cerulean eyes widen further as he subliminally leans back withholding his breath, trying to gain some acceptable distance. Luckily, Gon doesn’t budge from his place as he takes him in, those honeyed orbs holding something opaque as his lips curl in a not-so-innocent smile. Just then, Killua perceives his amber orbs sliding down to his lips at a deliberately slow pace before glancing back up in his eyes. Shit. Gon doesn’t allow him—the much needed—time to acclimate to the new turn of events.

It's exactly the same, even now. Their sensations manifesting as a tortuous web weaving around them, ensnaring them—ensnaring Killua—until suffocation becomes a mere consequence rather than an avoidable option. 

“I can see you haven’t changed much, apart from…physically.” Gon whispers in Killua’s ear, getting him to bristle at the remark. _Can he see right through me?!_ Gon’s probably—most definitely—referring to Killua’s predictably flustered reactions upon the close proximity. After all, he has undoubtedly matured, capable to stand his ground in _any other_ scenario. Seemingly, so has Gon. He had already substantially matured quite a bit once they turned seventeen or so despite exuding the same vibrant and overzealous energy that Killua was in love with. However, currently, Gon appears even more collected than Killua.

 _No! Gon can’t do this anymore. I’m his ex! He can’t come in my face and tell me something like this. For all he knows, I might as well be taken!_ Killua needs to recover and fast. He needs to come back with a witty retort to keep Gon aware of his limits. Though is Killua even aware of them himself?

As he internally strives to recapture his soundness, again in a split second, Gon now stands by the balcony door, casting a glance back at him as he runs a hand through his hair which Killua finds himself to still adore. He notes it isn’t as spiky and have slightly succumbed to gravity. Finally. Some stray locks resting on his forehead makes Gon look hotter than ever, forcing Killua to avert his eyes.

“It was nice seeing you again, Killua. Enjoy your evening.” Formality sounds foreign from those lips yet dauntingly appropriate now.

With that, Gon's departing back disappears into the halls, leaving behind a befuddled Killua, perplexed at the whole ordeal. Like in all seriousness.

_WHAT THE HELL?!_

Killua’s on tenterhooks with clammy hands as he constantly chews on his lower lip till it resembles the flesh of a ripened strawberry. Consequently, he favours staying in the balcony for another half an hour, trying to regain his bearings. _Okay. It’s fine. It’s just Gon. Only Gon. GON. Why? When I finally thought I might be able to live on without you…Screw that! So what if we’ve crossed paths again? I’ve changed now, and not just physically, dammit! If he was acting so calm, then why the hell am I so close to hyperventilating?! If he’s over me then I’m so over him._

Killua forces himself—and miserably fails—to undertake this whole situation as facile. _I’ll show him how I’ve really changed. Time to roll._ He shoves his quivering hands in his pockets as he strolls back into the halls, relatively composed—and most definitely not undergoing the inner turmoils of a frightened cat at the foot of a mountain, staring dead-ahead in the face of the roaring avalanche, waiting to be swept away without even a sliver of hope.

Simply put, he refuses to acknowledge the one indisputable fact.

Shits about to go down. 

Or hit the fan. 

_Or slam straight in his pretty face._

__________________________________

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
__________________________________

The place seems to be flooded with more people than Killua remembers. They might have just joined in while the host/owner of F.G. Ind. is still nowhere to be seen, not that Killua recognizes the guy but he surely would have been surrounded by paparazzi or something. Killua doesn’t give it much thought as he finally realizes something. The nagging feeling. The furtive pair of eyes. _Was it Gon all along? Then why didn’t he show himself earlier? Was he using Zetsu?! It’s not like Gon at all. Wait, is that why he was acting so composed?!_

__

Killua halts his brooding when he spots Gon over at the bar with two older men, engaged in conversation. It must be some variation in the lightings because the room instantly feels brighter and more rejuvenated. _No. He can’t be the one._ Killua's still able to feel Gon’s warm aura emanating even from his location at the other end of the hall. Even Zetsu can’t hinder Killua from distinguishing Gon. Then?

Gon’s swiftly signing a document while the two men have their hands clasped in front of them, heads slightly bowed as if in…respect? Instantly, Gon’s head snaps up, zeroing on Killua as if he could pinpoint Killua’s exact position past the affluent swaying bodies. Then something flashes across those features as he shuts the file with one hand and gestures it to the taller man who instantly reaches for it. Gon politely smiles at them before gently waving at Killua, a soft curve of lips gracing his handsome face. His tanned skin glistening and suddenly more prominent under the gilded lighting.

Killua waves back hesitantly, unsure of what else to do. As if to save Killua some face, an announcement is made just then stating the owner of F.G. Ind. was unable to make it today, yet again. So, all the main executives have now been requested to be seated at the official dining hall for the lavish dinner prepared extravangantly for them. Finally, Killua finds himself reluctantly tearing his eyes away from Gon, not wanting to dig too deep into those selfish gold orbs that have the tendency to take everything away from Killua, even now.

__

In all fairness, Killua had offered his everything to them just as willingly. _Apparently, he still would._

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey again! At first, I wasn't going to post my crappy writing at all but weirdly, I started having fun writing this so I thought if you enjoy even a fraction of this, it'll be worth it. Would love to hear your thoughts! Apologies since it's not proof-read but I will come around to fix it.


	2. The Only Constant in Life is Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where they're playing a game but who's keeping score? Killua doesn't wanna know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Okay, so I was totally incapable of this but those lovely comments (and kudos) are probably the only reason how I was able to pull off another chapter so thank you (I'm a slacker and very hesitant, not a good combo)
> 
> I apologise cause this chap also lacks a flashback since I wanted to lay out some grounding first. Still, there is Killua's small passing memory; a glimpse behind closed doors...anyway, enjoy! (I hope)

Killua gracefully saunters over to the dining hall adjoining the reception area, separated by a thick glass wall engraved with abstractive patterns, obstructing a clear view from outside. The hall comprises a gargantuan dining table situated at the centre—and to Killua’s pleasant surprise—overloaded with appealing cuisines originating from across the continent. 

The arrangement has been organized for ninety people to the count, most likely the elite executives, their respective subordinates escorted elsewhere. Fortunately, Killua always attends alone without any underlings who are just a pain in the ass. He works solo despite being criticized for it on multiple occasions in the past. Still, the chiding words always flung over his mock-deaf ears since Killua holds all the reigns in his capable hands now.

He’s immediately escorted by the chaperones to his seat with claret velvet finishing at the farthest left, reserved for the most prestigious guests. As Killua proceeds to make himself comfortable on the plush sofa—chair—whatever the heck it is, he finds his ease bid him farewell as soon as he catches a glimpse of tan from the corner of his eye being guided to the farthest left of the table, as well. Opposite Killua.

Gold locks on Sapphire. 

Holds it. 

Then moulds it. 

Satisfied, a roguish grin makes an appearance as he nods to Killua, taking his seat—across from him—beside another bespectacled middle-aged man who Killua guesses might be another big shot. He distinctly registers that Gon’s presence is quite intimidating now, more so than they were together. 

He’s matured to the truest sense of the word, everything about him radiates power, dominance and the whole room acknowledges his presence in the room. _What has changed, Gon? Why do I feel that these five years have taken a toll on you more than me?_

 _And God knows I’ve been through more than just hell._

Still, he takes comfort in the fact that Gon appears to be the same polite, cordial person he’d always known to be while Killua retains his sardonic attitude without fail. 

“Mr. Freecs! I’m so glad I’ve had the honour to meet you in person. I’ve heard all about you in the news…” The person beside Gon starts praising him like a long-lost friend. _What’s up with him? What news?_ Killua’s been keeping his distance from the world dealings for a dreadfully long time only to bite him in the ass now. 

“Ah, yes! Mr. Freecs, What you’ve done with the donations for the orphans and the animal welfare committee is commendable! Is it true that you went to the ruins of NGL just to salvage those near extinct herbs? That place wreaks of death! Besides, we haven’t seen or heard from you for a couple of months now?” Another wierdo joins in from somewhere along the table. 

“Thank you for your kind words, Mr. Sora and Mr. Asahi. But really, it’s just something that goes without saying. I have to do my share of work.” He answers with a shrug and a smile to match. Leave it to Gon to remember every loser's name. “Besides, someone has to bear the burden when someone else is... _scared stiff_ to make the right choice, you know”. 

Dissonance emerges from the chrysalis with a definitive purpose to flutter its wings between the two ex-lovers.

How dare he.

Killua snaps his eyes at Gon, privy to the fact who these words were actually thrown at. Meanwhile, Gon idly sips his wine, a slight smile on his lips, obvious through the rim of his glass as he takes in Killua’s well-adjusted glare. He feels a twitch in his eye. _You little-Some things never do change, huh? Alright, then. Let’s do this shit._ Killua gears on his professional mode.

“Well, _Mr. Freecs._ I was unaware of your noteworthy endeavours, but you see, sometimes things aren’t always the way they seem. Some people are facing the fire just as much behind the curtains without actually broadcasting to the world.” Killua quips, unable to hold back the venomous bite to his words, unlike Gon’s casual stance and more than one witness could vouch for that. A smirk overcomes Killua’s lips as he takes in a mouthful of his juicy silverfinger steak, content with his brevity’s loyalty when the need arises. 

“Mr Zoldyck, do you know Mr. Freecs?” _Crap. Now what?_ Apart from stabbing the guy with his greasy fork, Killua’s low on options. 

“Uh…Well..I-We-”

“We’re acquaintances. Right, _Mr. Zoldyck_?” Gon interjects, saving Killua the stuttering as he leans forward with steepled fingers pointing upwards, as though challenging him to say otherwise. 

“Y-yeah. We’re…acquaintances.” Killua echoes the statement. The word stinging on his tongue like a vengeful bee. _Really, Gon? Do acquaintances share what we had? It sounded so natural coming from you?_

“I figured as much, Mr. Zoldyck. You clearly haven’t been keeping up with matters of the world. Mr. Freecs is anything but a bragger. It’s not his fault he’s always surrounded by people like moths to a fire.” He’s telling Killua, expanding on Gon’s personality as if Killua—of all people—needs an explanation. After all, he’s been one of the moths, unavoidably singed from being intimate with the flames.

“It’s okay, gentlemen. I’m sure _Mr. Zoldyck_ meant no harm by it.” Gon interposes, looking pleased with himself while still eating. _At least his appetite is still just as crazy as him._

“Course not. Why would I?” Killua steps in to gather the pieces of his remaining dignity, not wanting Gon to gain the upper hand in this petty game of his. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Zoldyck? Is this seat empty?” A man in late twenties trying to hit on Killua the entire evening butts in, pointing to the chair next to him with a lewd smile. Inconveniently, the damn thing is empty. 

Killua Zoldyck has many traits. _Tolerance for bullshit_ is not one of them.

He massages his temple in an effort to calm himself before regarding the asshole in lieu of Gon. He senses Gon slightly straighten up from his peripheral vision, unnoticed by most but him, or perhaps he’s imagining it. Either way, Killua doesn’t want to waste his time with this nuisance when he’s got the most critical matter at hand.

“Yeah, it is, and just so you know,” Killua offers an irresistible smile before adding, “I intend it to be that way.”

Generally, he strives to desist himself from exercising authority, power dynamism or even a bone-cracking blow to the face needlessly—'modesty', he calls it. Be that as it may, now, the prodigy's too pissed already to just let it be and bluntly kicks his legs up to rest them on the said seat with hands behind his head, eyes callous and unamused. Expectedly, the perv's left with no choice but to ball his fists as he fumes in rage before stomping away.

Pleased, Killua’s about to return the call from his food when he knits his eyebrows at the sound and steals a glance at the source only to blink when he catches Gon chuckling lowly, barely audible as he shakes his head. Killua hasn’t heard anything this hypnotic since ages and it jolts him harder than a speeding vehicle on a speedbump when he grasps the naïve yet frightful realization. 

He only craves more. 

He gulps and opts to find interest in the detailed laced rim of his plate. He isn’t hungry but doesn’t want Gon to live with the satisfaction vis-à-vis the influence he still has on Killua, thus continues chewing on the tender meat, leisurely. Meanwhile, everyone becomes engaged in scattered confabulations, even Gon, but every once in a while, he feels those honeyed orbs on him, prodding Killua to look him in the eye. 

He won’t. 

He doesn’t have it in him. He isn’t bold, credulous and on the level like Gon. He’s a stark contrast, stealthy and a barefaced liar, getting the job done before one can even bat an eyelash. 

He wants to excavate so much. Where was Gon all this time? Why did he leave without demanding an explanation? How’s he been? _What are you planning? Why do you seem so different, yet the same? Why is there so much unsaid between us?_ Most grave of all.

_Is this distance meant to be right?_

His knotted thoughts get untangled and poof in the hollow of his brain when his ears perk up at the mention of dessert. He throws his fork and knife on the table with a soft clutter, readying himself like an animal for a hunt. He finally gathers enough courage to peak at Gon through his lashes who’s still ploughing in his food. 

Yet, no throwing drumsticks in his already full mouth like a dog with a bone, no smudges of sauce on his defined, angular cheekbones, no breadcrumbs stuck to his delicious lips and most appallingly; He uses a napkin. _Who the hell is he?!_

Gon doesn’t seem to notice Killua while still conversing with other men. Then, unexpectedly, he reaches for the chocolate cake, kicking Killua’s reflexes into high gear but when he charges over to the remaining—six sliced—chocolatey goodness for himself, it’s...gone? _How?!_

“Excuse me? Where’s _my_ chocolate cake?” He demands one of the waiters stationed around the table to assist with fill-ups. 

“I’m afraid it’s finished, sir.” The waiter replies and gulps, watching Killua’s deadly glare reserved for _crucial_ times like this. The poor waiter’s just on the verge of collapsing-

“ _Mr. Zoldyck._ Did you mean this one?” Gon inquires _knowingly_ with a beaming smile, gesturing to his cake with a flick of his eyes. Killua swears he _will_ slam Gon’s head on the table, or his own, preferably in the cake. Simply because.

Gon Freecs has many traits. _Subtlety_ is not one of them.

Gon goes forth to lick the burnt sienna with that tempting tongue of his, the luring crumbles on the fork getting rolled in his mouth and Killua remotely wonders if its normal to be envious of that damn cake right now. He takes another piece of that delectable sugariness with his fork before repeating the cycle again. Killua’s vision encompassing two of his favourite temptations simultaneously makes it compulsory to venture for some breathing space.

“Yeah..” he responds, only just. 

“You could have my leftover if you don’t mind sharing? I’m full, anyway.” Gon offers his plate as if ready to thrust in Killua’s face any second. _He knows my one and only weakness. Damn you._ Killua’s annoyed but relieved at the same time since Gon stopped his histrionic display of indulgence. He never was a fan of chocolate, after all. 

“No. It’s uh...fine-”

“No sir, you don’t need to do that. I’ve ordered another one. It’s on the way. I a-apologize f-for the i-inconvenience, sir.” The waiter implores who’d started explaining coherently enough to Gon only to stammer when he looks over at Killua and his now duller blue orbs. 

“Tch. Fine. I’ll wait.” Killua relents as he leans back, not wanting to scare the waiter away, seeing as he’s in charge of getting Killua closer to his love. “You should be glad I’m unusually patient today.” 

“Are you really, _Mr. Zoldyck_?” Gon’s tone begs to differ, lifting his eyes without his chin, giving Killua an underlook. “The twitch in your eyes and the occasional shifting of your posture…it gives me a very different impression.” Gon’s as observant as they come. Killua used to admire that unsung trait since it saved them on multiple missions. So, he’s astounded at how much he’s recoiling from the very trait, presently.

“That’s my swag. Problem?” Killua counters, aggressively carding a hand through his hair. 

“Nope.”

“Fair enough. And oi, you. I’m leaving. Make sure I get my cake. I’ll be outside in the reception hall.” Killua orders the quivering waiter with a dismissive wave as he promptly rises from his chair, lightly smoothing his front jacket while doing so.

“As you please, sir.” The waiter answers while tugging at his shirt collar, earnestly trying to repress Killua’s irritation to a bare minimum.

While Gon civilly attends to some financial crisis crap discussion in some country, Killua takes advantage of a few moments of Gon’s tilted head to really take him in. He’s a living bronze sculpture swathed in black. Even under his suit, one can easily make out his sculpted broad shoulders and biceps with a trimmed waistline just visible before shying under the table. His right hand’s resting on the table, clenching and unclenching his fist rhythmically causing his arm muscles to flex in sync. 

Killua doesn’t permit his eyes—wrestles with them not—to linger on that face lest it tempers with his better judgement. _You’ve always been too dazzling for me, anyway._ Killua forces himself to quit the room, his feet resisting the motion, as though hooked by an anchor on land but he steps out, nonetheless. 

He reasons it’s the novelty of the situation that has clamped his sentience. It has no relation to the effervescing feelings threatening to sprout out of his soul and bare him open.

______________________________________

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
______________________________________

Killua arrives back at the reception hall, breathless though walking at a camel’s pace. He’s well aware that his breathlessness is a causal effect unlike any physical exertion the silver prodigy ever went through and draws in a long due breath.

He needs to figure out his best course of action. Its 9:48 p.m. so an event such as this won’t be over till twelvish. Normally, Killua prefers bolting soonest possible. Today, while leaving seems mandatory for obvious reasons, it seems unreasonably impossible at the same time. 

How could he leave when he’s longed to see Gon for five years straight? Whether it be day or night, between efforts of awareness or winks of sleep.  


Now, he finally has the chance to clear his conscience and come clean to Gon as to why he did what he did. Both of them are prancing around the subject, neither willing to rip off the band-aid and reopen old wounds. 

Perhaps too dispirited to beseech some mystical alchemy to heal them properly this time around. 

Strangely, he could not pinpoint any accusatory gestures from Gon but then he’s been raised to be a proper gentleman. The type of man that gets girls—guys, whatever—hanging all over him. Heck, he’s never even been rude to an opponent before! 

_Then why does it feel like you got over me way sooner than I could ever get over you?_

Killua ends up strolling to the flank of the hall close to the bar in case he might need a drink later, just for the sake of it. He leans against the wall, not wanting to sit just yet. The symphonic music ricochets against the walls and tugs on people’s hands, prompting couples who’ve already started waltzing on the dance floor. It tempts a forlorn smile on Killua’s face. _Enjoy while it lasts._

He rests his head on the patterned wall and allows his eyelids to close, thinking back to when times were much simpler. When he was much younger, was madly and hopelessly in love. Well, ‘was’ remains questionable but Killua’s too preoccupied to mull over the niceties just yet.

His heart rate's reverting back to normal once he crossed the limit of Gon's visibility radius. Killua hasn’t had an actual panic-attack in years and for that, he’s indebted to Gon. Granted, he feels anxious now, but it’s relatively nonexistent in comparison to his full-blown pathological episodes. He’d been a victim of anxiety, plausible considering his traumatic childhood though Killua adamantly debunked the ‘shit-filled theory’. His occasional self-harming tendencies— _a coping mechanism_ —were another drawback to his already vexed mental health at the time. 

Still and all, Gon had wised up to the fact before Killua himself. 

Unbeknownst to Killua, Gon’s unadulterated devotion and exclusive attention lucratively made his episodes gradually subside over time. Chocolates overpowered scarlet-hued claws. Laughter trampled sobs. Smiles subjugated tears. 

And somewhere down the line, Gon conquered Killua. 

His throne, Killua’s heart.

His sovereignty, Killua’s sheer existence.

Until Killua rebelled.

______________________________________

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~  
______________________________________ 

_“Hey,”_

_"hmm...”_

_"You okay?”_

_If Killua could’ve scoffed, he would’ve._

_“Isn't it a bit…huh…late for asking that now?”_

_A melodic chuckle caressed his ears._

_“I meant…mood-wise? You don't mind?”_

_The nervous tone touched his senses and he exposed his hooded sapphires._

_Waiting._

_“I may have…ripped your shirt. Again.”_

_The movements were languid._

_The intonation in the honeyed voice, not so much._

_If Killua could’ve hollered, he would’ve._

_Lucky for the amber, he was out of breath._

_More so, out of mind._

_So, he did what felt natural and drew the heat closer._

_How another mortal felt more inherent than one’s own soul nudged his mind._

_And a fond smile graced his reddened lips,_

_As he shed the last of his inhibitions to breathe out._

_“Idiot..tear apart my flesh...and I won’t mind.”_

_The movements faltered._

_If Killua could’ve died, he would’ve._

_Yet, he felt something amiss._

_So, he tied the remaining words in his mind._

_‘As long as it’s you.’_

__

_What Killua expected was not what he got._

_It was not the raking scarlet lines that he anticipated against his skin._

_But an all-consuming sensation that filled his core._

__

__

_Burning yet addicting._

_To ease his qualms, a pair of lips affirmed the secure delivery of his undeclared thought._

_Killua invited the amber some more._

_Deeper til they became delinquents of nature itself._

_The love blinding and wholesome._  


_Coalesced into insatiable madness as they etched into the other’s night._

_Then, he heard._

_“Mine.” Treading on a whisper. Carved under pale skin._

_“Yours.” Killua pledged. Breathy and artless._

_Whilst allowing a lone tear to escape the corner of glossy sapphire._

_Feeling warmth spread its golden wings around him._

_Symbolic of an oath to shelter him from death if need be._

_Meanwhile, the night flowed seamlessly until the moon became saturated with love._

_And begged the sun to take over._

_So that beings—ethereal or human—could finally rest in peace._

______________________________________

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~  
______________________________________

“Your cake, Mr. Zoldyck.” Killua blinks out of his reverie and subconsciously hugs more into the wall, his shoulders tensing upon seeing _Gon_ holding out the cake for him. If he discerns Killua’s stiffness, he doesn’t comment. 

Standing tall in front of him with one hand folded behind his back, Gon’s amber irises shine with mirth and something incommunicable. It’s a first for Killua and he has a feeling it won’t be his last.

Finally, Killua musters a roll of his eyes. “Drop the act, Gon.”

“Eh? But you started it.” The slit-eyed cerulean glare Gon’s met with encourages a chuckle out of him and eventually he raises his hands in waive. “Fine, you win.”

“You didn’t have to bring it. I ordered the waiter-” 

“I know, but the waiter looked scared to death. Plus, I wanted to.” Gon smiles as Killua takes the petite crystal plate from him while his eyes take in the delicious objectionably large sliver of supreme-quality-belgian-three-layered-chocolate-fudge-cake. Yeah.

“Well, he had it coming. No chocolate cake ever gets mentioned to be finished in front of Killua Zoldyck. Everyone knows that.” Killua responds smugly, inwardly rejoicing at seeing Gon laugh at this and forces his body not to give away the slight shudder of delight. 

“Guess the poor guy didn’t know, then.” Gon offers a bright smile and for once this evening, the air around them is not so smothering.

Gon looms in front of Killua while he leans against the wall, his bright sapphires made more iridescent by the neighbouring luminosities of the banquet hall. He’s concurrently savouring his cake with his mouth and Gon with his eyes, unable to resolve the dilemma of which one seems better. Actually, he knows. Finally, Gon’s chuckling recedes and he favours a look at Killua, getting anxiety to pool in his stomach once again. 

“So, uh…Did you get to finalize the deal for your…friend?” Killua feigns spontaneity in his tone, hoping to ease the tautness of the thread of uncertainty with caution as to not snap it entirely. He simply wishes to learn more about _this_ Gon.

“Hm? Friend? Oh yeah, before we went for dinner actually.” Gon replies calmly, appearing extremely well-kept, both physically and—to Killua’s dismay—mentally.

“Cool.” _What am I doing? Why the hell am I stalling?_

“Hey, Killua.” Gon triumphs in getting Killua’s attention first though, both by the suave voice but an even more solemn tone, “How’ve you been?” 

Just like that, Killua feels himself bone-crushed from the guilt of his own shortcomings. An honest question with an insinuation not gone unnoticed by him. Killua shifts his eyes to the asynchronous couple struggling with the beat over Gon’s right shoulder.

“What do you think?” 

Gon takes his time. 

“You seem to be doing well.” 

At that, Killua chooses to refocus his gaze back on molten irises, unwavering. After a wave of unstated dialogue between the two unyielding set of eyes, he grins.

“Mhm. Cause I am. What about yourself? Heard you’ve been up to a lot, lately.” He turns the tables on Gon, clearly not wanting to be the focal point of discussion yet. 

“Yeah, I guess. I’ve been out and about for a while.” Gon confirms with a laugh while rubbing his nape before swiping a piece of appetizer from a nearby buffet stand, a fried tofu fritter. _Disgusting._

“So, you left Yorkshin since that nig-” Killua reels in the rest of his words, bayoneting his throat like prisoners desperate for freedom. He washes them down regardless with a swig of his drink. He doesn’t want to mention _that_ night, not now. He doesn’t know about Gon, but he certainly isn’t equipped to play the blame game just yet. “I mean, no one’s heard from you. Well, I lost touch with Leorio and Kurapika, so I wouldn’t know but I feel like you…haven’t been around…” Killua’s hesitant voice leaves him eventually. 

“Yeah. I left Yorkshin that night.” A second is all it takes for Gon to answer what Killua blenched from asking all this time. Gratefully, Gon doesn’t linger on that. “Then I got distracted with…stuff. I haven’t been in touch with them either, but they’ve been on my radar, so I know they’re safe.”

 _Was I?_

“I’ve been back a couple of days now. Almost after five years.” Gon finishes while watching two guys over at the bar, one an annoyingly hot blonde and the other an average spiky dude. 

Killua tastes the acrid flavour of jealousy slowly overtaking his senses. _Great. Haven’t experienced this in a while._ In fact, this was the only aspect he was glad to have left behind. Now seeing Gon eyeing someone else makes Killua unreasonably irate. _The hell? Your eyes should follow wherever I am. Wasn’t that always the case?_

“Got tired of travelling, huh?” Killua aims to keep the ball rolling, wants Gon’s attention just for a few stingy seconds to himself that he missed oh so dearly. Despite what they’ve been through, it comes easy to them, talking about things arbitrarily for hours on end. 

“No, I’m on a mission here. A hunt.” At this, Gon glances back at Killua, those dark gold irises somehow hotter than a sweltering day in June.  


“A hunt? Who’re you hunting?” This piques Killua’s interest as he registers that there’s someone who has piqued Gon’s. Dammit. _Shouldn’t have asked that. I’m getting too involved in his affairs! I sound desperate._

Gon takes a step closer, close to Killua’s now emptied plate lightly grazing his ribcage. Killua cranes his neck slightly in an attempt to hold Gon’s gaze. 

_What the-he’s gotten taller?!_ Gon had gained a few— _insignificant_ —centimetres on Killua when he got hit by puberty and got hit a bit too hard with his testosterone—libido—off the charts. Killua would know better than anyone. He used to, at least.

The persistent raven takes another step, drawing nearer still, too close for comfort. “You wanna know? The hunt’s _almost_ up.” The rims of gold gradually gets enveloped by Gon’s dilating pupils while he maintains a steady eye contact with a tight-lipped smile.

Killua swallows, cursing under his breath as his back slightly arches inwards without consent as if being pulled in by an invisible cable. His breathing picks up from where it left off and he only manages a weak nod in return.

He suddenly inhales a sharp breath, feeling electrocuted by his own aura when Gon places one hand on the wall next to Killua’s head. He’s almost hemmed in under Gon, not overwhelmingly but still unbearably. 

Just when Killua figures it can’t get any worse; Gon slowly licks his lower lip. 

He blooms a crimson shade, diverting his azures to Gon’s fisted hand on the wall in favour of his burning gorgeous irises. _Dammit, Gon!_

This is inducing a maelstrom of remembrances right now, surely off-bounds and certainly off-target. A sheen of sweat glistens on his temples as his own traitorous body deceives him in every thinkable way. _I bet he remembers how much I loved him in suits._ Heck, those times don’t even compare to how he looks now. Worlds apart. 

“Too bad it’s a secret.” Gon grins.

Killua blinks.

He creases his brow until the words finally get sorted by his malfunctioning brain. A millisecond later, he levels the taunting smirk with a glare that would have made anyone else shriek in fear, melt in its intensity, or keel over on the spot. Gon however, meets his glare dead-on with his own though his is more of an amused expression.

“Whatever. It’s not like I’m dying to know.” Killua retorts, acting indifferent but can’t help to inwardly cringe at how his demeanour is nowhere close to corroborate his haughty statement at all. 

Gon lets loose an airy laugh, a deep sound reverberating in his chest. Even an infinitesimal movement proves deluging for Killua’s stability right now, he has too much to process, even more to bear. 

Finally, Gon pulls back with a content sigh, leaving Killua unsure whether to feel comforted or distraught by the reacquired space. All the while, Gon starts heading towards the bar with firm and precise strides but not before glancing back at Killua, a peculiar look prevalent across his sharp features. 

“Oh, and Killua. I should mention before it slips my mind,” Killua lifts his gaze at the insinuating tone to find a smile already settled on Gon’s lips. “You look enticing tonight.” 

Muteness. 

That was the last straw to break _Killua’s_ back.

“G-Gon!! W-what the hell’s wrong with you?! Idiot!” Killua splutters, his cheeks and neck indiscernible from a ruby causing Gon to crack up, holding his stomach from doubling over in laughter. Soon however, Killua joins in cause what the heck, Gon complimented him. 

The only paramount happening yet during the epoch of their parting. 

Somehow, Killua collects himself before revealing a smirk as he lifts his chin. “I am, though.” Gon raises his eyebrows at that and manages to clinch down his remaining chuckles.

It’s not as if Killua can keep a lid on the obvious so why the hell should he deny?

“Wow. You really haven’t changed, huh?” 

“Yeah well, seeing how you’re still as embarrassing as ever, neither have yo-”

“Master Killua. I believe It’s time for you to take your leave.” Gotoh announces his presence as Killua’s dutiful butler slash escort, standing slightly behind Gon.

“Oi Gotoh, I’ve told you not to come when I’m driving on my own.” Killua snarls feeling pissed, leaving Gon doesn’t feel right yet.

“Hey, Gotoh! How’ve you been? Hope you didn’t forget me?” Gon pivots to his side, raising his hand in greeting. Killua swears he sees admiration in Gotoh’s eyes as he instantly grasps the tan hand in return. 

“Master Gon. Of course not. Who could forget you? I’m well. I hope you are faring well with your busy life?” _Seriously?_ It appears even Gotoh’s more well-informed than him these days. Then again, Gotoh always liked Gon more than he let on, especially when he was informed of their relationship. He was one of the scarce people who were sincerely pleased and genuinely dismayed after their break-up.

“Yeah. I’m doing pretty good myself. It was nice to see you.” Gon smiles warmly at the older man getting him to nod.

“Same here, Master Gon. Look after yourself.”

“Sure will. Thanks.” 

Gotoh turns his attention back to the pouting prodigy. “And Master Killua. I suggest you do not insist on staying here. Apparently, another late-night delegation is due to start in thirty minutes. Unless you wish to attend that as well-”

“Wha-No way in hell! Tch. Let’s go…” Killua sighs, reluctantly starting to tear away from the wall, and Gon. “So…Guess I have to leave.” Killua notes Gon staring at him in that ineffable way again before giving a nod of acceptance. 

“Yeah. I enjoyed chatting with you. It was nice for a change”. Gon gives him a smile that acts as an additional force of gravity, making it unrealistically harder for Killua to depart.

“Yeah...night, Gon.” Killua starts striding cautiously and forces himself to remain in control of his limbs as he walks past Gon only for Gon to clutch his wrist, firmly.

“G’night, Killua,” Gon doesn’t look at him, staring straight, standing upright. “Take care of yourself.” 

With that, he lets go.

The seemingly trivial words plunge into Killua’s heart sharper than his own claws. 

Caught completely unawares, Killua can only stare at the lit double-doored exit with widened sapphires, unable to comprehend the impromptu action. This is the first time Gon touched him this entire evening. His body instantly feels like shattered porcelain only to be emended by Gon anyway he deems fit. The effect Gon still has on him is fanatic, and in Killua’s opinion, unfair. 

Without a word, he starts dragging his feet away from Gon to follow Gotoh’s lead as he’s lost the capacity to form words at this point. The feel of eyes boring into his back and neck is tangible to the point where he can taste the intensity.

Yet he chooses to disregard it since he’s aware who they belong to, at this moment, and there is absolutely nothing Killua can do about it. _Nothing at all._

So instead, he focuses on counting the clacking sole of his shoes against the varnished floor. 

Almost missing the way fate winks at him from a distance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now, it begins. Would love to hear your thoughts! (I juggled between writing styles ONLY for this chapter but I'm sorry if it put you off in anyway).


	3. What Goes Around Comes Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where everything is in good spirits until…it isn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Okay so it’s hard to believe I actually made it through another chap! I struggle with commitments (life doesn’t help either) but the welcoming response from you guys have really pushed me through LDE (this fic) so again, I really appreciate those amazing motivational comments. Thank you!
> 
> Flashback: Takes place when they were slowly pushing boundaries and the only thing hardly keeping Gon from ‘claiming’ Killua was the prodigy's own uneasiness.
> 
> P.S. FBs won’t be in chronological order (its intentional). Anyway, Enjoy! (I hope)

**Flashback**

_“2343…huh.” A rise and a dip._  
.  
.  
_“Ah...2350.” A rise and a dip._  
.  
.  
_“2347…Argh.” And a dip in the brains preceding a sigh._

__

__

__

_“Gon, you’re counting backwards again.”_

_“Huh? Yeah well, math’s not…uh—2354—exactly my forte, Killua. Besides…huh...the extra weight isn’t helping, you know.” Gon accused as he directed a look over his shoulders at a languorous Killua comfortably nestled on Gon’s back while he strained with his push-ups. His breathing was shallow and bullets of sweat cascaded down strong tanned arms, his white tank top translucent from being drenched in musky brine._

_Killua removed the syrupy lollipop from his mouth before grinning down at him. “What are you talking about? I’m light as a feather.”_

_“My back doesn’t quite agree with that, Killua.” Gon restated his comment with another deep groan under the ‘feather weight’ as he laboured to reach the dead-set goal of 3500, not set by him._

_Under normal circumstances, Gon could have breezed through 5000 push-ups with ten Killua’s wedged on his back, no sweat. As it so happened, his nen training protocol while proven as a success had taken an enormous toll on his physical state. His recovered nen was overpoweringly fiercer and untameable than initial predictions, subduing his physical strength to a fatal degree, referred to as an ‘epiphenomenon’._

_It was pivotal that Gon honed his assailable body back in perfect shape to reel in his reawakened nen and manipulate it at his will rather than the other way around. Hence, entered his new mentor—austerity in the air around him that made Bisky’s training methods seem almost, gracious—Killua Zoldyck._

_“Come on, big guy, put those muscles into good use.” Killua egged him on without relent, patting his back—more like hammering._

_“I think I’ve…uh…been doing that…for the last three hours.” Gon rumbled._

_“Geez, Gon. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it is having a boyfriend who can’t even do more than what, 2054 push-ups?” Killua punctuated his retort by pressing his hipbones on Gon’s midback while digging his palms in his shoulder blades for added resistance—mindful of his injuries despite creaming him otherwise._

_“Dammit...Argh...Killua...you do realize I was in the hospital ER for three days straight, right?” Gon cavilled even though his impressive movements failed to waver under Killua’s tyrannical treatment._

_“All the more incentive to work harder then.” Killua exacted as he felt himself dip and rise alongwith Gon’s motions, his hair playing with the breeze and allowed a tender smile to overtake his lips, feeling beyond proud by his boyfriend’s expeditious accomplishments._

_Still, Gon needn’t know._

_“Besides, who told you to go all out when there was no need?! You had finally got your nen back, but no…Mr. Flashy Goldeyes had to leave a mark on history itself, right?” He gesticulated with his rant and rave despite being outside Gon’s scope of vision._

_“Hey! I was bound to get a bit carried away after getting my nen-“_

_“A bit?! Being carried away is one thing Gon, but obliterating an entire building—or FOUR—just for the heck of it is an entirely different matter-”_

_“It was one building-”_

_“The rest were collateral damage-”_

_“But I made sure no one was there-”_

_“—Especially with YOU INSIDE! ALONE!” Killua finished, highlighting his utterly stupendous idea of ‘testing his nen’._

_He could freshly recall the formidable feeling upon being informed about Gon’s critical condition. The gut-wrenching dread as though the earth itself had crumbled beneath him, leaving him with no choice but to fall in a familiar abyss, only with no getaway this time._

_Blanched from his toes to the tip of his hair, he flung his chocolate delight over his shoulder and dashed in the hospital’s direction before the ice-cream could land splat on the asphalt, leaving behind the pungent ozone of Godspeed._

_Never again._

_Thus, Killua cracked the whip forcing Gon to become stronger once able-bodied, even if it meant being counterproductive at times._

_So, there were literally only two options for Gon._

_It was either Killua’s way,_

_Or Killua’s way it was._

_“Oh yeah, should’ve thought it through…” Gon confessed, the obstinate stance replaced by a surrendering chortle._

_“Seriously?! I honestly wonder what the hell goes on inside that thick-headed skull of yours.”_

_“Eh? Nothing.”_

_“Exactly, smartass.” Killua closed his eyes to suck on the sweet flavour only for his heart to miss a beat. He fluttered open his crystal azures, finding himself on his back with a panting, sweating mess of a raven on top. What the-_

_“Well…except for nude images of a blushing pale…”_

_“Gon! Shut up!” Killua shrieked only to slap a hand over his mouth, the cloud of authority swapped with a shroud of a blushing disorder._

_“What? You asked, and I answered, which…is still incomplete, by the way.” Gon hinted with a smirk._

_Killua was moments away from internal combustion but kept his guard up, regardless._

_“Tch. Your inappropriateness knows no boundaries.” Killua grumbled before shoving him playfully on the chest, attempting to off-set his scorching cheeks and largely to get off the gross wet grass, now surely sticking to his back. However, even in his destabilised state, Gon refused to budge, at least with half-hearted shunts._

_“I guess.” He shrugged, leaning in. “So, where were we?”_

_“Let me guess. We still are in a not so secluded park where kids are playing, and old hags are probably staring at us right about now. So, I suggest you get your ass off me unless I make you.”_

_“I’d like to see you try,” Gon rose up to the challenge, lifting his caramel orbs to take in the scenery Killua so expressively described before settling his gaze back to grin at the now fidgeting flushed teen. “And so would those ladies over there.”_

_Killua quirked an eyebrow, angling his head to gape in horror at the giggling crinkly hags gesturing to the world’s top elite hunters in a very compromising position._

_“What?! Don’t you have to go nap in your graves or something?”_

_“Killua! That’s rude.” Gon chided him albeit with a doting smile._

_“Don’t care.” He snapped before deciding to use a full-throttle shove which in one way or another converted into a yelp when he felt Gon’s weight dipping against his sacrum._

_Shit._

_“Gon. I swear I won’t hesitate.” A hidden warning._

_“I don’t want you to.” An open suggestion._

_Desperate times called for desperate measures. He was more than capable to thrust Gon off of him with just a kick and he intended just that. Only he froze._

_The unbridled affection accreting in those honeyed irises made him distantly wonder if any deed was ever worth enough to wager what he got in return._

_He had dug a gold mine while being blind, deaf and mute._

_Oblivious to the treasures of desire therein._

_Killua threw his head back with a resigned huff, eyes darting every which way to blink back the damn tears. He was taking one timid step at a time with Gon holding his hand as his mentor, learning to acquaint with normal, humane emotions, explaining why they were all over the place recently. Withal, he was rest assured when the sudden caprice in Gon’s demeanour told Killua what words couldn’t._

_He respected that._

_“Gon?”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“Twice.” I was about to lose you. Twice._

_Killua felt the other’s words on his neck. “I know.”_

_Then warm lips spelled on the inside of his wrist. ‘I’m sorry’._

_Killua shut his eyes._

_“Gon?”_

_“Yeah?”_

_“You’re…okay, right?”_

_Killua felt the comforting weight lifting off his body as Gon raked a hand through his damp hair only to float over Killua once more, nudging his nose with his own._

_“Killua, you won’t get rid of me that easy.” He smiled, assuring and brilliant before letting out a soft chuckle, “Unless you keep up this mutilation you call training”._

_Without a hitch, Gon crushed the cemented bricks of tension with just a lilt of his tone, soothing the blue-eyed spirit._

_Apparently, Gon was a more heedful mentor than Killua._

_All the while, Killua just...watched him. If it was with love, he wasn’t experienced enough to tell._

_Then he blinked. “Mutilation, huh? Big word you got there, Freecs. What is it?”_

_No sooner had he seen Gon drawing a blank, Killua knew he had picked it up from someone in the training facilities._

_“I’m…not sure?”_

_“Hah! I knew-”_

_“But whatever it is,” Gon cut him off only to shift his attention to Killua’s shining lips, “It can’t be worse than what you do to me.”_

_Killua bit his lip._

_Ever so slowly, he feather-trailed his fingertips along strong arms to rest on broad shoulders, compelling the raven towards him._

_Gon assisted._

_Killua leaned in till his lips were nanometres from Gon’s ear shell. “Can’t charm your way out of training, so forget it. But…I’ll go easy with the weight this time.”_

_Gon’s drawled out groan was cut short as Killua felt the perfect angle to afford him the opportunity and instantly slid from underneath, performed a backflip in the air only to land in a crouched position in front of him, agile as a feline._

_He began trekking back to their apartment until it hit him and he half-turned. “Oi Gon, don’t forget the-”_

_And then there was ‘this’ look._

_A look so feral he didn’t need any experience to tell._

_“Gon. Don’t forget to collect the mission credentials on your way back. It’s your turn.”_

_“Kay.”_

_“Gon.”_

_“Hm?”_

_Killua breathed, folded his arms and turned to face him fully._

_“You know I’m up here, right?”_

 _He watched with bated breath as Gon’s darkened orbs transfixed on his ass slowly glided over the length of his body._

_A sheared waist. A vulnerable neck._

_Those defenceless lips to finally rest on the stunned sapphires._

_“Unbelievable.”_

_“What?”_

_“You really wanna ask that?!”_

_Gon had some decency left to rub his nape with a guilt laugh while still in a plank position. “Sorry, I…kinda spaced out.”_

_Killua squinted his eyes while managing a poker face if a blushed one could count._

_“Do-Do you always check me out when I walk away?”_

_“No…”_

 _There was a better chance of snow in hell than Killua believing that._

_“Whatever.” Killua started walking again only to stop, deciding to plant a little seed of motivation. “Better get to it, Gon. After all, you owe me an unfinished answer.”_

_Killua smirked as Gon’s head jerked his way. Delighted by his thunderstruck expression, Killua began walking, eager to get back before sunset bought with itself grouchy people and congested traffic._

_“Sure Killua, but the answer’s easy. All I ever think of is you.”_

_Inevitably, a chill raced down his spine and numbed his extremities at Gon’s next words._

_“Messing up the bed with me.”_

______________________________________

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
______________________________________

Killua’s eyes fly open at the insistent maddening beeping clawing him back to reality. Naturally, he’s woken up to a memory rather than a dream. He hasn’t dreamt in years, neither nightmares nor fantasies since dreams can’t be roped by crippled sleep. 

As per ritual, his hand almost tosses the phone to smash in the wall but ends up switching off the damn thing instead. His gritty sleep-laden eyes reject his command to remain open and he allows them whole-heartedly as he rolls over on his stomach. Daylight is his sworn enemy, especially at seven in the bloody morning! Twelve’s no good either but that’s beside the point.

He currently resides in his opulent three-bed fully furnished luxurious apartment, all to himself, except for Gotoh to pester him 24/7. His princely room is pooled by sunlight in some areas, barely sifting through Killua’s navy blue velvet hangings though enough to annoy the silver-haired prodigy to death. His room has been designed—on his resolute demand—with a theme of rich black and blue, suiting his dark and deep persona. 

He recalls the cause of his sudden awakening and the remnants of sleep lifts off of him like steam from a hot beverage. GON. It’s been three weeks since their unanticipated encounter at the party and now he’s been rendered useless to think of anything else while cursing himself for not getting over it. For being a coward again by not taking the initiative to ask Gon of his sudden attendance—literally out of nowhere—and rehash their accounts like the adults they claim to be.

“Master Killua. Please wake up and get ready for breakfast. The car is waiting outside to escort you for today’s meeting in order to consummate the deal.” Gotoh’s incessant knocking on the black graphite door only manages to remind Killua to kill him rather than attend the stupid meeting. 

“I’M UP!! Quit with the banging!!” Killua screams in his pillow, voice muffled and dense with slumber. He’s often tempted to brand sleep as a fickle bedmate, throwing a tantrum all night only to cling to his skin like a viscous fluid when the moon descends. 

He muses if it’s too much to ask, wanting to enjoy the fine chiffon silk against his even silkier skin a while longer. Finally, the infuriating knocking stops and he sighs in relief. 

“Very well. I shall be waiting outside.” 

_Guess the sulking can wait till tonight_. Killua huffs and stretches his nimble body before starting yet another mundane, worthless day. He rubs the sleep from his eyes as he inertly walks over the netting mess of cords like wrangled snakes of his game console to the ensuite bathroom but not before glancing at it longingly with a promise of return. 

Yawning, he pulls the night shirt over his silver fluff, takes off the pendant and the two rings before setting foot on the heated bleached tiles. Reluctantly, he spares a look at his reflection in the stainless mirror, bidding to appreciate the fabric of who he is before allowing a muted chuckle to escape and makes his way to the shower stall. All the while, a maxim phrase ringing in his ears.

_Out of sight, out of mind?_

__

__

_What a load o’ shit._

______________________________________

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
______________________________________

“So, where is he? Does he expect me to sit around all day?” Killua gripes, drumming his fingers impatiently on the rose-walnut veneered table as he awaits in the meeting room located in one of the communistic buildings of F.G. Ind., designated for confirming world’s most influential deals. It’s vast, designed calculatingly for accommodating around two hundred people. 

Killua can’t help but admit that the owner truly must be something else. His buildings are at the same calibre as the Zoldyck’s, if not more. The location where he attended the party and now this, he truly must like class. Refinement boasts itself from the in-vogue furniture to the building itself, beige leather walls impressively complimenting the ornamental lightings, impeccable to say the least. 

The fact that the owner is rumoured to be a self-made man and quite young somehow makes Killua want to respect him though the guy’s negligence for time entreats Killua’s wrath instead. He counted eighty-seven members the second he stepped in. Everyone had shot up from their respective seats upon his arrival, uptight and nervy by the prodigy’s electrifying presence. He couldn’t care less. 

Over a span of twenty-four minutes, he’s already burned through—and ended—the three medieval games pre-downloaded in the supplementary laptop provided for every seat, complained the life out of Gotoh and even gauged the spectrum of emotions painted on nameless faces, all leading his way—poorly masked envy, lecherous hunger and plain terror. Yet, the ticking of the clock mounted on the wall manages to tick him off the most. 

To circumvent his irritation, he focusses on spinning a sleek black pen around his thumb. When accompanied with a slight spark of his aura, it becomes a black blur between his deft fingers. 

“Master Killua, please. People can hear you. He should be arriving shortly.” Gotoh tries taking the edge off the ex-assassin. 

“That’s what I heard last time. Besides, I have stressing matters to tend to.” Killua answers lamely from his slouched position while continuing to twirl the pen at supersonic speed.

“I’m sure your video games and sweets can wait, Master Killua.” Gotoh points out with a tug of his lips.

“Hey! I’ve got important things-Whatever, but if he doesn’t get his ass here in the next two minutes, this meeting can go to hell for all I care-”.

“Apologies for the wait, gentlemen. Something urgent came up.” A man enters the room, slightly out of breath. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long?” 

“Well, not that it matters since you don’t seem the type of person who can reverse time.” Killua replies smugly to the handsome blonde whose hair is only a couple shades darker than his own white fluff. _He better be glad he’s still in one piece._

“Glad to see you’re still as snarky as ever in the mornings.” 

Killua forgets to breathe.

_NO._

Behind the blonde, standing proud and pleased with confident squared shoulders is none other than _Gon Freecs_. Killua instantly regrets calling the blonde handsome seeing how he’s utterly overshadowed by Gon’s illusionistic entrance once again. 

Killua notes a couple of facts in a blink of an eye. Gon’s donned in a semi-formal white pleated shirt, sleeves rolled up baring capable forearms and a black vest with black pants. Tie loosened, first two buttons undone, carrying a manilla folder in one hand with the other holding the victorian door handle. His hair’s slightly wet and drooped like he just had a shower before he left, looking incredibly more attractive than Killua’s willing to credit. Suffice to say, he looks perfectly unkempt and it blows Killua’s mind away.

Which is why he stumbles upon the most vital fact a moment too late. 

_NO. NO. NO-_

“That’s one way to welcome, I guess…” Gon tilts his head with a misleading smile as he now holds _Killua’s_ pen caught between his two fingers;

Aimed square for his face.

Upon hearing the rich mellow tone, Killua—in his delusional state of mind—had instinctively, idiotically, launched his spiralling blistering-fast pen Gon’s way like a bullet from a gun. Had it not been for Gon’s razor sharp reflexes, Killua’s sparked aura backing up the throw would have impaled his eyes, brain, or throat—that much was guaranteed. 

Killua Zoldyck is cold-hearted, some even argue, heartless. Nevertheless, he realizes his slip-up. Social graces harass his consciousness to apologize for the little stunt he just pulled so, he opens his mouth-

“Gon?! What the hell are you doing here?!” He blurts out instead, baffled like a child who’s lost toy has been handed back to him. 

“G’morning to you too, Killua.” Gon chuckles, easing the door shut behind him once the blonde moves out of the way.

“Yeah…whatever, mornin…” Killua mutters, leaning back and hooking a leg to his chair, trying to contain his inflating curiosity as he watches the tanned skin under the sunlight streaking through the bronzed oak blinds, looking as though being polished by the sun itself. Just then, an emerald ring with a gold band on Gon’s index meets his eye. _Huh._

“Actually, I’m here to sit the meeting with Roan here.” He jerks a thumb to the blonde—Roan—now standing beside him. “He’s the person for whom I attended the party that night. Since I signed all the documents for him, I’m supposed to accompany him for now. You know, business protocols.” Gon shrugs, pulling out the chair beside the man sitting across Killua but not before sliding Killua’s _makeshift weapon_ in his pocket.

“Oh.” _No._

Instead of settling in his seat though, Gon slowly bends forward in front of Killua and places sturdy hands flat on the table with a slightly tucked chin before addressing—not Roan, not the eighty-seven members—but Killua, explicitly. 

“But I can always leave if you want me out.”

_Why are you doing this, Gon?_

There’s a trace of inquisition, a plead for honesty and a tone of finality. 

An implication plain as day.

What Killua says will be set in stone. 

What Killua wants to say though is something that he can’t amidst the prying gathering or even in the privacy of his own mindfulness. So, he’s left with diplomacy. “It’s um…fine. I don’t care either way.”

“Is that a definitive yes?” Gon stresses with an easy smile and a vibrant disposition as his gaze drops to the spherical globe paperweight now rotating between his fingers. 

The action is trifling, may very well be aimless. Still, it ends up mocking Killua by how fitly this analogy summarizes his life; How Gon can rotate Killua’s world in his hold just as effortlessly. 

“Yes! It’s fine, Gon!” Killua hisses, ill at ease with how Gon’s actively garnering everyone’s attention on the two ex-lovers.

Content with the statement, he flicks his eyes back at Killua, discerning something before pulling out another chair, motioning Roan to sit beside him.

_Once that seat was my sanctuary. By your side._

Unlike the laid-back uncommitted hunter in front of him, Killua’s a top-notch dignitary, a position demanding formalism and poise as a prerequisite above all else—pitiable goody-two shoes jazz. Accordingly, he's adorned in a sheeny steel-grey shirt and dark dress pants with a black formal blazer perfecting his look.

Killua’s nothing short of an arresting fantasy, substantiated by men and women drooling over him all day. Every day. _What made Gon get up to speed with fashion, anyway?_ Not that he minds. He’s just not used to seeing Gon this…hot. 

“Mr. Zoldyck?! The Killua Zoldyck?! Mr. Freecs, you should have told me sooner!” Roan exclaims zealously and rushes over to shake Killua’s hand, getting him to blink at the enthusiasm. 

Taken aback, Killua’s about to protest the unwarranted attention but finds himself getting distracted as he takes note of how all members had stood up the second Gon entered—analogous to Killua’s entry—until he smiles genially in return and offers a humble wave.

However, there’s an evident disparity in the mannerisms that Killua senses yet can’t bring himself to resent.

They respect Killua out of fear.

They admire Gon out of respect. 

“You can let go now. It’s creepy.” Killua tugs his hand away, pissed off by Roan stroking his ego like every other power-hungry freak and not just because he settled beside Gon. 

The meeting commences with the preambles of shitty old rotten introductions, aims and purposes that normally bore Killua to a catnap. Presently though, he’s straightened up and listening as attentively as an intern eager to please his stuck-up boss. At least, he gives that impression with a bent head and trying his damnedest to focus on the weird ass origami screen saver on the laptop.

Killua Zoldyck is nothing if not adept at reading others’ thoughts while betraying none of his own.

However, under the intensity of a perlustration so concentrated that pales every glance Killua ever received, he’s not so sure anymore.

Without warning, a flashy object catches Killua’s eye and he looks up at _his_ pen now flittering in Gon’s hand, an innocent smile greeting his frown and he automatically seizes another pen in his dampened palm, as if in self-defence. _Bring it on._

It’s laughable really, more than half the world relies on the outcome of this contract yet Killua’s can’t apprehend anything except _his_ pen being gradually pressed against a pair of playful lips across from him. His breathing staggers and his own grip tightens. 

He wants nothing more than to look away, anywhere not involving a cynical twist of lips. That, and a dare swirling in those gold rings spurring him on. 

_‘Look at me. Only me.’_

__

__

_As if._

And yet, Killua accepts. 

Only then,

He bites _it._

______________________________________

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
______________________________________

“With the preliminaries out of the way-Mr. Zoldyck! Are you alright?!” Roan’s eyes bulge out as he half-inclines over the table.

“Y-yeah…”

“You snapped your pen in half!” Roan points to the broken pen in his ironclad grip.

_Son of a-_

“You don’t look okay. May I help in anyway?” Roan presses.

“What’s not _okay_ is this cheap ass pen of yours. And I don't like repeating myself, I'm fine. Anyway, I-I’ve wasted enough time. I presume you’re the owner?” Killua deflects offhandedly, his shaken mind obstinately avoiding Gon like the plague. 

This _needs_ to stop. 

Veiled actions, covert emotions and unguarded gazes. 

It’s a journey promising euphoria but no destination. 

It’s a drug certifying ecstasy but no cure.

It’s a charming illusion but Killua can’t take flight from the naked truth.

It’s nothing but a fool’s paradise.

“Heh. That pen did cost more than most people earn in a year…” With a nervous giggle, Roan aims to lighten an acute tension that he can’t put a finger on. “A-anyway, I’m afraid our director has been unable to keep his appointment due to some unforeseen circumstances. So, I’ve been delegated on his behalf to arrange the final proceedings for our contract. I hope you’re satisfied with our terms and conditions?”

“Woah. Back up a little.” Killua speaks up as he lazily flings the broken shards across the table. _Okay, forget about Gon. Remember why you’re here. Deal. Owner._ The silver prodigy is in the spotlight now and he’ll prove he has a reason to be. He’s the best there is.

“Are you implying that your ‘director’ has not even considered me worthy enough to spare his few minutes?” Killua speaks in an impressively composed and proficient tone, congratulating himself for not allowing his internal state to override him for the time being. 

“That’s not true, Mr. Zoldyck!” Roan makes an eager effort to sound reassuring.

“Well, I’d agree with you but then we’d both be wrong.” Killua asserts his statement as he taps his foot soundlessly.

“Please, Mr. Zoldyck, you know he’s a very respectful person-” 

How the hell do I know that?!” Killua snaps, already done with the blonde’s filibustering. Everything aside, who does this trashy ‘director’ think he is, anyway? “For all I know, he doesn’t even exist considering no one’s ever seen him. To make things worse, no one even knows his name. I’m beginning to doubt that you and your precious ‘director’ are fabricating this pathetic lie just to scam me!” 

Nothing pisses Killua off more than people misconstruing his youthful age with inexperience. 

“Of course not, Mr. Zoldyck! How could you even think that?!” Roan screeches in his thin reedy voice.

“Let me make one thing very clear to you, Roan. No matter how profitable this deal may be to the Zoldyck’s, I won’t sign shit. In fact, I will revoke this deal till I meet him. Face to face.” Killua’s voice drops so low that it sends an eerie wave of sensation across the room. Audible gulps resound the conference hall in a ripple effect. Then unwillingly, those azures finally land on amber. In a beat, his heart pulses all the fluid to his face and neck, leaving him a little more than rubescent.

Killua might as well be stripped naked with how exposed he suddenly feels under that eagle-eyed stare.

It's a lax attitude, a slackened fist covering half his mouth and an amused grin evident on Gon’s otherwise tranquil face, his elbow resting on one leg widely folded over the other. If memory serves him right, Gon’s been granted entrance as a mere spectator in the sidelines—a nobody in this setting—courtesy of Killua.

So, why the hell he looks as though he owns the Goddamn universe is beyond the ingenious prodigy. 

However, what blasts off his pulse like a skyrocket—driving him to give a piece of his harassed mind to Roan instead—is the bold hedonism in Gon’s countenance. He's seemingly taking masochistic delight in his frustration, as though Killua's cooing words of luv rather than spewing insults parellel to a slap in the face.

“—Please calm down, Mr. Zoldyck. Rest easy, this is purely authentic and legalized. As for our director, even we ourselves haven’t met him in person, ever.” Roan tries again to vindicate their company’s credibility.

Killua almost barks out a laugh at his absurdity but settles for grabbing the glass and downing water in his parched throat instead.

“I think you’re a newbie around here cause that point you just made only strengthened my suspicions. As far as I'm concerned, a man who doesn’t even deem his employees important enough is as good as dead. This meeting’s over. There will be no further deals unless,” Killua leans forward, a dark glint in those narrowed irises. He reveals an invincible smirk as he delivers the final blow. “I have an offer that’s hard to resist.” 

Gon lifts his head at this with slightly narrowed eyes and finally removes his hand from his curved mouth. _Tch. Concentrate._

“What are you trying to imply, Mr. Zoldyck?” There’s an edge in Roan’s voice.

“That’s for you to figure out.” Killua concludes, satisfied before leaning back with hands behind his head. Just then, he hears a low but deep memorable chuckle which he can distinguish even if deaf and partly because no one else would dare. Thus, an almost irrepressible urge knocks on his senses to boot the enhancer under the table-

“Mr Zoldyck! I’m afraid you’re taking advantage of your reputation and authority. You may very well be the prodigy of the assassins and the hunter association combined. Our boss has been unusually lenient when it came to this deal because its beneficial for both parties. We were even instructed not to get any background information on you. However, I have my sources and may know something about your grim past.”

Killua’s eyes dull at this. A cloud passes over his brow and a flash of ire and threat crosses his eyes, all emotion wiped out.

Roan’s perhaps knowingly paddling in deep waters while discounting one minor detail; Those sapphires are notoriously merciless and deeper than the ocean itself.

“Let's face it, you're in no position to call our boss a liar when we all know some of your very questionable or should I say...horrific undertakings. You've been a disgrace to humanity the second you were born and you've proved it countless times. Your actions were disgusting and unspeakable ever since you were a child. But then, magically, one day you changed your so-called 'ideals'. So, if anyone, it's _you_ I'm finding hard to believe in, Mr. Zoldyck. ” 

Roan spits on Killua's morality that he fought day and night to retrieve.

Killua sees nothing but red, tastes nothing but bloodlust and feels nothing but the lick of rage. He's internally struggling between killing the bastard on the spot or break down at his unforgivable past. With much exertion, he keeps himself at bay while desperately starving the intent to kill.

Throbbing veins in his neck urge him to log out of his brain and release his assassin mode. _No._ He’s not a clone rolling of the assassin’s line anymore. Killua’s mature now, uses pragmatism as his only offense to deal with puny assholes that aren't even worth wasting his breath on.

The crux of the matter is blandly obvious. The bastard’s simply using his _superior’s_ power as leverage to get his way with Killua. Yet that's not what makes his blood run cold, not by a long shot.

It's a phantom of a presence. Still as a gravestone, quiet as death.

During the whole altercation, Killua prudently wills to avoid the raven, come what may. Gon hasn't said one word in favour or against Killua every since the meeting lead off. Now, Killua's too ashamed and mortified to even glance in his direction. Then.

Out of a clear blue sky, the culmination of it all strikes Killua like lightning and he instantly feels lifeless from the impact; A barren corpse with a heart that beats no more.

It's comical cause it doesn’t even matter.

It's corrosive but it’s the truth nonetheless;

_Gon doesn't give a damn._

Killua is Gon’s ex and there's nothing more to it.

There's nothing left in between and in the end, _that's all that matters._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um...things gradually get insanely hot, heavy and intense between the boys 'on every level' though I apologise for bearing with me as I’m still struggling to find a way around my stupid hesitance to share my work, lol. Anyhow, would love to hear your thoughts!


	4. "Unlove Me, I Dare You." Said He

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where it doesn’t matter what’s ahead of you…because of what’s behind you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Okay, this is a “huge” step-up for me and the credit goes entirely to you guys for the support/motivation to continue LDE. (Or never would’ve made it with life squeezing the juice outta me)
> 
> There's a snippet of their 'passional' side (from a point in their life where they _literally_ used to breathe each other)…anyway, enjoy! (I hope).
> 
> P.S. Happy belated birthday to the gorgeous piece of work that is Killua Zoldyck! Strangely, this chap suits his day.

Finally, a lancing spear is hurled at Killua’s integrity. 

“I sometimes wonder how someone can be such a bloodthirsty _murderer_ to-”

A booming crash rebounds the conference hall like a lead ball jolting everyone upright—except one—as Killua slams his fist on the table, curtly rising from his seat. Electricity sparks at his fingertips, slithering across his skin like striking jutted veins.

His breathing’s becoming ragged with every passing beat as he attempts to deter the returning fury as a tidal wave crashing through the precipice of his sanity. He must leave before he claws Roan’s heart out, indents him like the splinters of wood under his quaking knuckles or better yet, pummel him six feet under. 

It’s difficult. It’s even more despicable because deep down, he knows Roan’s spot-on. So, he turns on his heel to bolt. 

It’s merely an utter of a name.

Yet, all go deathly still.

Barely above a whisper but startles him like an ear-splitting cry of thunder.

Killua clenches his fists till crescents of rouge taunt his skin.

 _‘It’s just a voice’_ , he wants to assure himself.

Even though a blood-curdling volatility dawns on the ambience.

Fluently extinguishing the flames of wrath and bloodlust overruling his wisdom.

In hindsight, there’s not a hair unruffled, no rattling of the windows, no vibrations of the building, no explosions of fury, no harsh breathing, not even a shift in position. 

_‘It’s calm’_ , he simply wishes to defend the other.

In actuality, it’s an unearthly silence, 

Save for the deafeningly faint sound of prismatic crystal glasses, cracking one at a time. 

Under the sheer majesty of an irenic yet steadily flaring aura. 

And in that moment, all Killua feels is grateful how it’s _not_ his name uttered from those lips.

“Roan.”

Killua steels himself to finally get a load of the source only to gasp. It’s a sight he would crawl over naked glass to behold. However, it’s comes with a covenant, a kind of peril not many could endure. For someone who’s been heaved in the very pits of torture to experience a frisson of fear course through his veins is nonsensical. Hence, it makes it all the more existent. 

Gon’s staring down at the russet notepad in front of him, as peaceful as a saint made for heaven until he reveals his face. His clouded, now rusty golds latching onto Killua’s dull now gelid sapphires; 

Conceivably, still the only capable domineers of that wild gaze. 

Gon’s holding him captive with sight alone and immediately, Killua figures he’s no saint, alright. He’s witnessing the kind of being that will shake the grounds of hell itself, incinerate the dwellers within should they mess with something of _his_. Those eyes are abysmal with an implicit rage that Killua only saw seldom but has burned in his eyes for eternity.

“You’ve stepped out of line. Apologise to Killua.” 

No, it’s not a friendly appeal, it’s an imposing command with an authoritative carriage without dignifying Roan with so much as a glance, without breaking eye-contact with Killua. Without blinking. 

Killua swallows.

“But-”

“Now!” The glasses finally give from the ominous growl, shattering into a kaleidoscopic breath-taking prevue of ultimate supremacy and power. 

Killua takes one step back.

“Y-yes. I’m s-so sorry, Mr. Zoldyck! I-I was really out of my p-place-” 

Killua doesn’t grasp a syllable of what Roan’s jabbering about. _Why did you act this way? Why are you looking at me like this?_

_Who are you, Gon?_

Gon’s drinking him in like he’s a lifeline though Killua knows better. Killua can function as a ruthless assassin while skilfully balancing his self-restraint; a born ace and a tactical realist. Contrarily, Gon’s indomitably using Killua as his chains and shackles, the only one who _knew_ the ropes well enough to imprison the hellish enigmas within. 

While Killua’s dubious of many riddles orbiting around this Gon now, his gut can never steer him wrong on one proof of certitude; 

He’s desperately relying on Killua to keep him from ripping Roan apart, limb by limb.

 _Why?_ It’s a valid question with finite answers, opening and ending with the silver prodigy. So, he lets it be for the sake of downsizing the situation. 

As always, it’s a scale of unequal proportions; Killua’s plateaued outrage heavily outweighed by Gon’s building ire. 

Thus, he resolves to shun his recrimination lest Gon senses Killua’s apprehension further and passes a biased judgement. Whether Gon’s accredited to do so or not urges an open debate for another time. 

“Mr. Zoldyck?” Killua blinks away from the enhancer to scan over the nervous-wreck. “Please sir, I’ll get f-fired if our director hears about this. I apologize for my m-misconduct. I’m truly a-ashamed of insulting you.”

This time, Killua does laugh, brittle and hoping its jagged enough to slit the bastard’s throat. He has a plethora of profanities and well-grounded threats that would be more than sufficient to haunt him even in the asylum of daylight. Still, he remains ‘modest’ by adopting candid euphemism and settles for crushing his ballooning ego like a crisp auburn leaf by the bustle of walkers. Simply put him in his place.

“You know, I feel like you really need advice so here’s one.” Killua leisurely pockets his phone and wallet before sifting out two complementary—intact—shortbread sticks from the serving platter, now split into smithereens. “To ‘insult’ someone, your opinion must be worth value first.” _Dickhead._

Roan’s head hangs lowly in humiliation as he plucks the cuff of his shirt. Shaking his head, Killua strolls over to the secured exit before casting a sideways glance at the enhancer. He’s relatively calm, even if his set jaw and rigid muscles murmur otherwise. Appreciatively, he’s not staring at Killua anymore, his ducked head giving rise to ambiguity. 

On second thought, Killua decides to stick his neck out and finish what Roan started. Resting his hand on the handle, he lifts his chin, smirks and never looks back. “I’m everything you said and more. Hell, if I wanted, you wouldn’t be able to breathe out the air you took in for ‘insulting’ me. I maybe a bloodthirsty assassin but,” 

At this, he leaks a surge of bloodlust to get the point across. “Vengeance is beneath me.” 

He’s out the foyer before the door clicks shut. 

“Master Killua-”

“Go and leave the car for me.” Killua doesn’t wait for a response as he rounds a corner and fades into the dim corridor. Confirming himself as the only occupant, he enters the communal restrooms and finally lets himself go. 

___________________________________

~.~.~.~.~.~.~. **Flashback** ~.~.~.~.~.~.~  
___________________________________

_“You’ve got some explaining to do.”_

_“There’s nothing to explain.”_

_“The guy you nearly shredded into pieces wouldn’t say so.”_

_Leaning on opposing walls of the forsaken lobby,_

_In seclusion save for the lust, their only mate._

_It was a face off against each other._

_Except it was for each other._

_“He was just asking me for directions.” Killua tested._

_A mirthless chortle tugged on his spine, jeering and echoing._

_“In your pants.” A noxious declaration._

_What Killua wouldn’t have slain to don an elated smirk,_

_But he espoused the fickle approach, wearing it like a rind._

_“I would’ve handled it like a ‘human’.” Killua incited wilfully._

_The instant blaze in those cinder orbs greeting his words,_

_Would’ve made the devil its celebrant._

_Unlike the sapphires who led that very gaze._

_“Don't be a savage just for my sake...idiot.” An amorous assertion._

_Oh, how he basked in the attention._

_Yearned for it til the expiration of time and space._

_Wanted no less whilst giving nothing away. Then._

_Famished from the drought of touch,_

_One figure detached from the wall, making way to the other._

_Measured strides and driven intent._

_Upon reaching the surreal paleness,_

_One caged the other alike a frail prey fallen captive._

_Only, this prey revelled in the bondage of his predator._

_“Call me what you want. But answer me this.”_

_Pastel skin was exposed, a head was angled, and canines were bared._

_“You were created for a savage.” What was stated._

_‘To be rawed and then remade.’ What was intended._

_Impulses were at feud as pain traversed the lands of exoticism._

_“So, really…can you blame me?”_

_Ceremonially, the ache was shadowed by the passion of lips._

_Breathtakingly hazed for clarity to take charge,_

_By some marvel, he could only return the smile,_

_Harmonizing the other’s._

_One of needless consent, the other of ravening indulgence._

_Their limits were up, words redundant and clothes surplus._

_So, they allowed their bodies to resume the confrontation._

_‘He should’ve asked you instead.’_

_Killua would put forth once they made it inside their den._

_Yet, at the rate of their enflaming carnality,_

_Little did he know,_

_It was way past going anywhere for a bit._  
.  
.  
.  
_It never was toxic, their affinity._

_Only blissful symbiosis._  
______________________________________

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~  
______________________________________

__

_Nothing’s ever enough though, is it?_

__

Catharsis serves the sole purpose of a sinful elixir. Allowing itself to be abused, it smoothly drowns oneself thru feigning cleansing from the plaguing sentiments until one’s left as an exploited addict, at its mercy. 

Killua welcomes it with open arms.

Venting his spleen, he smashes his fist in the steel hand dryer without holding back, forming a large depression in the dryer and cracking bones in his hand. He seethes in pain, viscous red dripping from his tightened fist, not wanting to let up. Complying, he pounds the dryer again, more blood spilling like streams of red wine but the damn fist still doesn’t let loose. 

Apparently, his hands have a mind of their own. They need human skin to connect, need to shatter bones, not batter metal. The bent digits shriek to morph into claws and gash out flesh from the-“Uugggghhh!” Killua howls, still not fulfilled, all the while relishing in pain. He hasn’t hurt himself willingly ever since he swore to _him._

This doesn’t count cause it’s only perfunctory, his body taking a hold of his intellect to wring the ill-intent out of him like water from a dishrag. He’s violently attempting to abjure his immoral wishes in favour of wisdom even if it means indulging in his own forgotten pleasure.

Eventually, he tries to end this atrocity but to his absolute fright, he can’t. _Why can’t I pull myself together?_ He smears the ruddy rivulets gliding along his milky skin in a sickly gorgeous contrast and nothing’s more perturbing than to find himself getting a figment of recognisable satisfaction.

Beads of sweat trickle down the sides of his cheeks, sliding down his neck, only to be seeped inside his collar. The restroom’s still empty, saving him the shame and looks of revulsion. Again, he feels an indescribable impulse pressuring him to aim for the metal. 

So, he nerves himself before slinging his fist with full strength, finally putting an end to either the cratered metal or his hand. The fist’s about to connect only for bronze replacing steel. 

It’s an uncalled for but an equivocally providential arrival. 

A whimsical coincidence as a matter of course. After all, luck and Killua don’t bode well as companions, anyway.

His eyes widen in response and sucks in a harsh breath as he reflexively braces himself in time, obviating the resilient hand from taking the full brunt of the blow. Regardless, it still hits the dryer with a clangour resonating in the stalls, a loud reminder of his idiocy. 

He grits his teeth before concealing his irises without peeking at the intruder. It’s pointless. It takes all he’s got to get over the bizarre exhilaration he forgot existed.

Then somehow, his grip finally cedes, loosening by his side. 

To be forced to contend with one’s own body devoted to the bidding of another is illogical, some might say. 

_Who’s Killua to prove otherwise?_

He feels exhausted, emptied and about ready to drop dead but remains erect. Killua can’t show his feebleness when he’s already weak in the bones for him. 

“Why?”

Silence collects his broken sob. 

“Why the hell did you put your hand in front of mine?! I would've crushed it!” Killua sizzles before inhaling a deep breath, and finally opens the nebulous azures. He still hasn’t gathered enough daring to gaze directly into those irises. “You-you didn’t have to risk your hand.” He whispers instead, focussing on the spotless floor now acting as a canvas using his blood as a dye.

_Shit. Is that mine?! I…I didn’t even realize. I’m so tired, Gon. I can’t handle everything alone anymore. Never could’ve._

_I need you._

Though his words get misplaced amongst the cacophony of emotions thrashing in his heart, clumping his throat and evaporating on his tongue.

From nowhere, a warm hand gently cradles his bleeding wrist, getting tainted with Killua’s blood and he cringes. His fist tenses involuntarily from the unanticipated contact but as the forbearing warmth suffuses through the undemanding touch into him, he finds his grip going entirely obsequious.

Another careful hand borrows Killua’s other one as if trying to provide him support, leading him. Dejected, Killua caves in as always, following this figure to death if he must. Finally, Killua peers through his lashes to meet a nostalgic side of Gon that hasn’t been bestowed on him ever since their breakup, a look he doesn’t deserve _anymore._

Gon’s gazing down at his hands with such tenderness akin to a kiss of twilight lulling the moaning wind in its arms. Those softened features pouring a saccharinity sweeter than the curl of a lotus petal embracing the fallen drop of honeyed dew.

There’s no resentment, no disgust and no deprecation causing unbidden tears to slowly inhabit those drawn sapphires, hanging by his lower lashes. It’s an antithesis to the Gon he left behind in the hall without even a glint of anger that was deep-seated in those rims a few minutes prior. All that’s left behind is unfiltered affection, purer than the hopes on which starved lovers live by. It’s as though Gon’s aware Killua needs it more than words right now. 

_More than anything._

He’s quick to avert his gaze to Gon’s emerald ring in a thwarted attempt to hide the glimmer creeping in his own eyes. Still, the pain Killua feels in his hands can’t even compete with the ache in his heart, exposing his vulnerability to Gon after all these years. While being led to the sink, Killua realizes how ignorant he’s been. 

_Time doesn’t heal shit._ It’s just a salve for the symptoms until history repeats itself, revisiting the neglected wounds. 

Killua knits his brow when the careful hands leave Killua’s bruised ones, causing distress at the sudden lack of cherished touch. He hears the water running before his hands are cradled in warmth again, feeling wet and sore as they’re guided under the warm flowing water. He watches the clear fluid now throwing its shades of red iron while Gon hasn’t spoken one word. He continues observing Killua’s hands with a bowed head, one hand holding Killua’s both under the water and gripping the sink’s marble ledge with the other.

“You shouldn’t have leaked your bloodlust.” 

The silence has cracked but not broken.

He’s still absorbed in Killua’s hands as they slowly regain their pale colour albeit still bruised and now inflamed. Whereas, Killua resumes staring at Gon, trying to decipher the slits in his elusiveness, leaking finer feelings not fitting for an ex.

“Hm?” Killua blinks at him, unable to catch his words.

“Most people have fainted back there from your bloodlust. Well, save for a couple of hunters.” Gon chuckles softly, finally opting to tilt his head towards Killua with a smile.

A smile that melts the world around him as unsurprisingly as the temper of frost thawing under the spirit of fervour. 

_You were the best thing that ever happened to me, Gon._ Who relinquishes paradise after having gained it?

“Serves em’ right.” Killua mumbles, hospitable to the stirrings of the mood as it tries to toss and turn on the discomfited bed. Gon always had the tendency to lift the dense air around them. Willingly or unwittingly, Killua never found the piece to that puzzle. 

Neither one references to what transpired earlier, another topic swept under the rug. It’s still a custom, apparently. Gon had never pressed him for any justification ever, whether it was inhaling his month's stash of chocorobo-kun in a week, winning races using Godspeed against the rules—set by Killua to begin with—or…forcing Gon out of his life _forever._ Only this time, its perhaps because it’s not his place anymore.

“Can you move your wrist?” Gon prompts encouragingly. He’s still bleeding though it’s a piece of trivia considering he’s dealt with far unhealthier indulges. Defeated, Killua shakes his head with silver bangs draping his down-cast eyes, failing to even twitch a finger. Meanwhile, Gon’s comforting smile never leaves him. “It’s okay.” 

He tears a handful of tissues from the paper dispenser and starts sheathing Killua’s hands, cautiously. So, Killua stares at the emerald as it works diligently alongside the tan hand and with his own hands now out of commission, he’s left with shifting his weight from one foot to another. 

“This should stop the bleeding till you get back, at least. Tell Gotoh to tend to it properly, later.” Disconnecting his hand from Killua’s, Gon takes two steps back and perches on the ledge beside him, hands resting on the edge.

“Yeah…” Killua’s hands drop down to his sides as he diverts his eyes to his reflection in the mirror for the second time today, unable to ignore the excruciatingly casual detail that they’re alone. At long last, an opportune moment has presented itself for Killua to lay himself open and be held accountable for his—irrefutably condonable—actions.

Only, his tongue gets tied up from being blanketed in rapture by Gon’s unprecedented albeit short-lived care and concern directed solely at him. For now at least, he feels content and can’t be self-centred for wanting anything more. 

______________________________________

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
______________________________________

“Come in.”

Taken by surprise, Killua looks over at Gon, puzzled until a slinky assistant enters the restroom, carrying a polka-dotted file crammed with documents. “Thanks, Erena. You may leave now.” Gon returns her bashful smile with a charming one of his own, grabs the file and waits till she leaves with a sass in her hips. “If anything, you’re an amazing negotiator, Killua. They told me you’ve been given complete right to revise the prerogatives of this contract. It’s a sort of-I don’t know, compensation for today’s…trouble and not having any contact with their director-” 

“To hell with him! He can shove his prerogatives up his ass!” Killua carps without a moment’s reflection. 

"Killua." Punctually, an entertained smile now plays on Gon’s distracting lips, a direct refutation of the sophisticated timbre that Killua’s unaccustomed to. “Just hear me out. I’ve been sent cause they believe I’ll be able to convince you, somehow. I can personally guarantee that I’ll oversee everything as an independent third-.” 

“Okay, let me stop you right there.” Frankly, Gon can’t stay put in one continent, let alone in one overpopulated urban city. “This world isn’t for you, Gon. You’re an elite, one of the best pro hunters out there. How can you possibly oversee something this-this technical when you don’t even know what prerogatives are in this context?” Killua proudly imparts his insight and if he’s _practically_ bragging his own flair along the way, he sure as hell earned it.

Withal, Gon simply watches him, provocatively long and intolerably hot. Then, like a flip of the switch, he tips his head back and actually laughs, diffusing mirth and sunniness to wash away the residual dreariness. “I’ve done my homework, Killua.” 

Killua tilts his head and blinks twice in disbelief. “Huh. Guess I'm the idiot thinking you’d finally matured.” Failing to shove silken bangs from his eyes with a bandaged hand, he huffs overstatedly. “You really think learning one or two fancy words is enough?” 

Killua stretches his back and neck slightly to banish the tension and tightness coiling his muscles. Doesn’t work. Eventually, the laughing gives way to broken chuckles as Gon removes his hands from the ledge, loosely crossing arms over his chest before looking straight into Killua’s welled eyes, professing in a deep purl of his voice.

“Oh, you’d be surprised.” 

Killua’s already a bundle of tender nerves and Gon, in general, isn’t helping his case. Thus, he opts to focus back on his awe-struck reflection in the mirror before giving a long blink. “I-I don’t need supervision, Gon. Especially an amateur’s.” Killua presupposes, his lips saying one thing while his heart thinking another. “Besides, I’m not some dependent weakling and you know-wait, what about the mission? Your…hunt?” Killua probes without sounding unduly curious.

“Hmm...” Gon’s acts thoughtful before letting out a sigh and looks up at the buffed white-chromed ceiling. “Between you and me, that’s why I’m here. It’s a cover for my own thing and quite relevant to this mission.” Then a deviant smirk makes itself known, eyes still hooked on the ceiling. “Really, Killua. Did you honestly think I’d go through all this just for you?” 

“Wha-No! I-it’s-”

“Cause I’m not that nice.” Gon reaches behind and tears a couple more tissues, drying off his hands before tossing them in the bin.

_Huh. Then._

__

__

_What the hell was all that?!_

Killua’s tongue stings with how badly he wants to smack these words on Gon’s face like some rancid stinkin’ pi- 

“I’m just plain selfish.” He conveys with an artful smile and closed eyes. 

“At least we’re on the same page for once.” Killua scoffs, rolling his eyes at the hearty chuckle he’s graced with. “Look, Gon. It’s-I don’t think it’s a good enough proposal…We can’t do this…” Killua’s rhetoric departs from his voice at the caveats of how wrong and inappropriate this really is. 

Leaving the stone unturned doesn’t efface the existence of treasured gems underneath. 

It’s against the strict code of ethics for partners—intermediaries, _who cares_ —to conduct a consortium who’ve been in any potential liaison before, especially when taking into account the unpreventable intimacy still up in the air and pirouetting in between the two ex-lovers.

“It’ll be _strictly professional._ ” The architecture of the situation is unstated yet feasibly understood. “C’mon Killua, even someone like me can tell this deal’s important to you. I’ll be honest here, I can’t do much for a genius prodigy, anyway. But I have a hunch,”

Killua awaits his next words while being unable to stand the ebb and flow of today’s eventful day. Or, how Gon’s slowly swiping his tongue over his front teeth and how that’s supposed to be anything but a damn turn-on.

Tick.

Tock.

Tick.

“You do realize we’re only young once, right? So...any day, now.”

On high alert, Killua warily narrows his eyes when Gon rolls his shoulders once and laxly pushes himself off the sink in lieu of completing his statement.

Wordlessly, Gon crosses the pitiful distance between them—in the otherwise spacious stalls—making a semi-circle until he’s directly behind him, all fun and cheers flown away. Killua conscientiously keeps his eyes on the raven’s reflection in the mirror though Gon saves the renowned prodigy the inconvenience of upholding a meagre eye contact by lowering his head. 

Predictably,

His fiery breath fanning on Killua’s nape,

Lights a spark,

"You'll connect the dots soon, Killua."

Kindles his skin— 

“Cause you'll be unable to resist what I _can_ offer.”

—And sets him aflame.

Unlike Killua’s saneness, the hunter’s not done yet as his lips then track Killua’s ear, voice arcane and breath begrudgingly acquainted. 

Killua bites the inside of his cheek and reaches for his forearm to keep track of reality from illusory. Straightaway, his eyes lock on Gon’s reflecting hands in the tormenting mirror, a futile attempt to avert the oncoming current of illicit sensations only to regret not a second later, going wide-eyed at seeing the hands levitating on the smooth curve of his waist. 

He blames it on riding the adrenaline rush since the obscurity of the situation has augmented the acuteness of sound to a pin-drop silence. So, of course, he hears Gon’s next words crystal clear. Despite that, he’s still doubtful on what to make of the current action or the whispered avowal as he notices Gon’s hands curling into cast-iron fists over the outline of his hips. 

There’s absolutely no touch and yet, Killua’s already felt too much. 

“I’ve got your back, now.”

___________________________________

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
___________________________________

Killua whirls around like a windstorm to meet those determined features head-on only to feel the strength draining from his knees. “Dammit, Gon.” 

Gon gives a victorious smile and holds out the subcontract.

“Amend it as _you_ like. Get your lawyers’ counsel if you need, then sign it. Have someone call me and I’ll deal with the rest.” For a mediocre, he's not half-bad, explaining like some savvy, off-the-cuff entrepreneur. Killua—everyone—had always been enthralled by Gon’s potential at excelling in everything, really. He persuaded the other party to bend the rules for Killua in a matter of minutes. To top it off, he’s now convinced Killua, naturally. Still, something doesn’t sit well with his stomach like the vegetable muck he pukes right after. 

Then a face clicks in Killua’s mind causing a flicker in his eyes. “Gon. If I see that asshole ever again…” _I’ll kill him._

“You won’t.” The receipt of the low-key message being confirmed, as well.

Gratified, Killua’s about to nab the file from Gon’s hand only to blink when he pulls it away. “Don’t. I’ll get someone to carry it for you.” His eyes skimming over the wounded hands. Even so, Killua's about to object if not for the inexpressible mien suddenly taking over the raven as he leans into Killua, incredibly gradual and purposeful. 

“So, Mr. Zoldyck. Willing to gamble on an _amateur?_ ”

Killua can’t help but smirk as he inclines his neck to meet the good-looking face. “I don’t know Mr. Freecs. It’s a dicey move.” 

In half a beat, he slips away from Gon’s overwhelming immediacy, heading for the door while pulling out his phone, swiftly tapping away a flying text message. 

It’s not until he comes to a standstill in front of the door that he perceives the bigger picture. Looking down, he bows to fate and groans in embarrassment upon hearing the breezy tone. 

“I’m pretty sure it’s not as dicey as opening that door, Killua.” 

With his rock-stiff hand and the other barely coping with the weight of his phone, he’s left with only one possible alternative. 

“J-just open the damn thing or I swear I’ll blow it to bits!” With or without hands, Killua Zoldyck always comes through even though the unperturbed—humoured—laugh brings an exasperated sigh out of Killua’s well-worn lungs. 

He taps his foot in sync with the pace of hefty steps making their way over to his side, a strong hand grasps the ceramic lever and Killua takes his cue. “You know, it’s absurd how you’re so full of yourself.” 

“Eh?” 

“I haven’t even said yes.”

“Well, it’s your call, Killua. All I’m saying is,” Gon’s physiognomy is nothing less than satisfied. Slanting his head sideways to face Killua, he adds on without opening the door. 

“I’m game either way.” 

The door creaks open and the prodigy dashes out. 

The boiling heat of the radiators instantly blasts on his face, amplifying the already embedded hotness under his skin now that his ‘normal’ reactions kickstart again. The shamrock green carpeted foyer is submerged in warm pearly hues, a welcoming divergence to the washed-out tiles and blank walls of the stalls. Wintry snowflakes glitter while twirling gracefully with the diluted sunrays in the far end double-glazed windows of the hallway. 

“Hey, Killua.”

“What now?” Hot and bothered all over, Killua turns his torso midway at the deep voice to find the strapping figure emerging from the restroom a few feet behind.

“Mr. Freecs, your coat.” The assistant from before— _Erica? or...Elaina?_ —turns up, keeping Gon from approaching Killua. 

“Oh, right. Thanks again, Erena.” Arrayed muscles flex invitingly as Gon shrugs on the slim-fitted coat hugging his frame in all the _fine_ places. _Oh, Come on!_

Groaning inwardly, Killua prioritises his attention on the multi-panelled oil paintings displayed on his left, embellished by streaks of top-lit ivory lighting assigned only for its glory. 

A transcendental exhibition of art by all means. Five canvases converging into a well-proportioned soft-edged scenery of a lone woman on the seashore, naked with the artifice of ocean her only garment. She appears mesmerized by the amore of dusk as it strokes the ocean in gentle tones, melded ripples of oceanic skin being the only mark of its touch. It’s pacifying and enchanting, mentally stimulating, even. 

_If one knows where to look._

For Killua, it’s insanely cunning and more than a mansion’s worth of fortune. _Wouldn’t mind one of those myself._ Yet, it’s still not as captivating as the cologne wafting off Gon’s body as he plants himself beside Killua, now regarding the seascape alongside him. “Sorry bout’ the wait.” 

Standing at an arm’s length, Gon’s hands are now clasped behind his back while Killua’s rest in his pockets. Distracted, Killua hums in understanding. “The guy’s got taste. I’ll give him that.” 

“Yeah,” If Killua hears the sincere smile in the admiration, he _doesn’t_ care. If Killua senses the undertones, he _shouldn’t_ care. If Killua feels those amber orbs regarding him now, he _won’t_ care. “He sure does.” 

Killua forcibly restricts his eyes only to admire the flowy brunette tresses with a tinge of ginger caught in the sea-breeze. 

In time, the ambers withdraw from his face and the ex-lovers now converse with the scenery acting as a bridge for their eyes. “Just thought you should know there’s an event being held two weeks from now. In your honour.”

“My _honour,_ huh?” Sarcasm dribbles from his lips. “Here’s a lesson for you. It’s not in my honour, Gon.” Killua resists the urge to feel the texture of the blended dyes, envying them as they become lost in one another, merging in every respect with no interference of life. “It’s just pretentious bullshit.”

The ensuing silence punctures every lantern of hope in his being.

“Okay, in that case, I’ve got one for you, too. Well, more of an advice than a lesson, really.” 

“Seriously? Dense and selfish Gon Freecs giving advice to _selfless_ and _noble_ Killua Zoldyck? Geez, whatever the hell happened to dynamics around here.” The light-hearted derision pulls out a jovial chuckle out of Gon and a softened smile from Killua. “So? I'm open to criticism despite my reputation, you know.”

The fact that he brushes it off like dust anyway, is something he can only wish Gon doesn't hark back to.

“Sure you can handle it?” An informal but honest inquest.

“Mhm." A fleeting but deceptive reply. 

Still, the hunter goes reticent yet again, an attribute that’s inaccessible to Killua, out of reach now. So, he doesn't pursue.

"Give yourself some credit, Gon." Then Killua grins despite himself. "How bad can it possibly be?” 

Foreseeably, another soft chuckle follows his wisecrack as Gon runs a lethargic hand through his hair.

“I..."

The abrupt drift in the tone cracks his smile and shifts the tide.

"I know it’s always been hard for you, Killua. But _for once_ ,” 

_Don’t do this, Gon._

A brimming trepidation overfills Killua’s every tendon and ligament upon fretting over the infinite possibility of words capable of spilling from those lips. All sharper than scalpels, harsher than revenge and more hurtful than hate.

 _“For once,_ ” He restates.

.

A pause lasting half a millennium.  


.

“Lean on me _a little_.” 

.

To endure one’s soul subjected to comatose by measly words is impossible, _all_ might say.

_Who’s Killua to prove otherwise?_

.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.  
.

_Twenty-six minutes ago._

_ To: xxx-xxxxxxx  
From: K. Zoldyck. _

_F.G. Ind. owner._  
_Dig him out._  
_ASAP._

_ Sent _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chap had to be delivered for your awesome comments/kudos/insights :) Hope its not weird that we still haven’t made it to the ‘actual plot’ yet when things finally start. (unless I die first, lol but its..weirding me out tbh). Apologies cause the story's writing itself. Anyhow, would really love to hear your thoughts!


	5. I Found Comfort In Your Chaos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where he'd rather confess or die trying?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Okay, so can’t thank you enough for all your support that made me wanna write asap :) But this month was just..hell so apologies if anyone was let down.
> 
> This chap's a mini ficlet itself (flashback) where it all came down to this; How to keep their hands off each other.  
> (No, like seriously, it’s imp to give you a hopefully _obvious comparison_ of their ‘behaviours’ pre-breakup and the current storyline at this point). Enjoy! (I hope) :)
> 
> P.S. fbs are paced/styled slightly different to give a contrast to the current plot (please don't be confused as its not italicised. Would've been weird for the whole thing).

**Flashback**

“Would you rather be handsome but stupid or intelligent but ugly?”

__

“Wow. Your brain’s as malfunctioned as your nen, old man.” Tossing a chocorobo in the air, Killua chicly caught it between his teeth before smirking at Leorio. “Aging sucks.” 

“Hey! Just cause you’re barely out of your diapers doesn’t mean I’m old, you brat!” Leorio squawked. “Besides, I’ve improved even more than you since you last saw me, thank you very much!” 

“Just fake it till you make it.” Killua yawned with arms stretching above his head, scoring points off Leorio’s fuming face. 

Gon and Killua had been driven by the bull-headed medic into taking a brief climb-down from their personal excursions. Leorio had nearly bled Gon’s ear by blaring over the phone to get their asses to his apartment at the other end of Swardani city and commemorate his med school completion. 

Up till then, their relationship was camouflaged under the guise of friendship and Killua was dedicated to keep it that way as long as _physically_ doable. Although they were in a fully-fledged relationship, he always got panic-stricken whenever the subject of publicizing their affair was broached by Gon. 

Mainly because it was an impediment to—in simplistic terms—devour the silver-haired wonder of life. 

Whenever and wherever.

Thus, Killua’s all-encompassing mind refused to overlook the red flags; Two of the world’s fiercest—and sexiest—hunters becoming a _thing_ wouldn’t be taken lightly by the Hunter’s Association, let alone their two parental friends. 

Half-heartedly, Gon had gotten on board and Killua finally received some respite from the enhancer’s voracious _appetite_. They’d mutually committed themselves to be considerate for their friends not to let their—biologically oppressive—urges dictate their behaviour. Fortunately, Killua’s training regimen, for better or worse, had impressed upon him the crude fundamentality to fence off all desires for dire situations such as this, apparently.

_Easier said than done._

Especially since the worldly-wise Kurapika just had to be present to Gon’s delight—assumably by Leorio’s badgering. The Kurta was always on the look-out for anything really, but in no way, shape, or form could it entail getting caught _in the act_. Taking these factors into consideration, the duo hadn’t been even remotely intimate for the past four days, sleeping with the sun’s guidance as time, sarcasm as sustenance and the two douchebags as company. _Just three more days. I can do this._

Though the actual question remained.

_Could Gon?_

The urges untrained,

Pale crevices ensuring adventures of re-exploration,

With the stakes nigh high of getting caught,

Well.

Killua had his doubts. 

Any ill-omened instant those raiding eyes cannoned into his own, the suspicions only got fortified by the unabashed leers Killua would fall victim to. Despite his credible distrusts however, Gon had been behaving remarkably satisfactory, nothing peculiar or shadowy. 

Alas, that in itself was an anomaly. 

Scarfing down a rustled-up dinner comprised of dumplings, udon noodles and seared salmon sashimi, all four were now gathered around Leorio’s extended dining table with Gon settled across Killua and Kurapika opposite Leorio. Both had thrown on black tank tops and comfy sweats, displaying skins with vague intents. Gon’s rustic gold chain hanging from his neck was slightly weightier than Killua’s own platinum one sitting at his collarbone, accessories they’d taken a liking to;

On each other.

They had initially opened the night playing cards with an extra deck to spare. It wasn’t until Killua confirmed _seven_ aces—underhandedly pulled out by the consecutive five-streaked winner—that he lost it and _literally_ short-circuited, burning the whole deck of cards into charcoal with nen to spare. 

With the three aces from the spare deck demolished as well, they were left with games that _Gon_ couldn’t swindle. Or so Killua reckoned. 

Currently, the enhancer’s hands were preoccupied by riffle shuffling the remaining cards nonchalantly. He offered a smile or a low laugh every so often at the buoyant gibes being thrown across the table mostly by Killua, acting like a pointy needle bursting the helium balloon, or more correctly, Leorio’s temper tantrum. Gon only stepped in to diffuse the situation whenever Leorio looked about ready to strangle the pale neck.

“Kurapika! I didn’t ask you to jump off the roof!” Leorio diverted his irritated snarl at the Kurta. 

“Hm…” Killua quirked an eyebrow at Kurapika who rubbed his chin in grave contemplation as though the planet's extinction rested on his response. “I am handsome and intelligent, so I have the best of both sides already, but if I had to choose, I would sacrifice my appearance and retain my intelligence.”

“Really?! But looks are everything in today’s world!” Leorio goggled at Kurapika who evenly sipped on his herbal tea.

“Yes Leorio, but I wouldn’t want to be stooped down to your level by losing my intellect entirely.” Kurapika simpered, stirring a breezy laugh from Killua and a widened smile from Gon. 

“Why you-Oye, Gon! Spin the damn bottle!” Leorio barked as he swigged a large gulp of his beer. 

Gon complied with a nod and spun the bottle only to smile ruefully at Leorio. 

Gon was never disrespectful or insolent towards anyone without cause. Rationally, Killua justified his own brashness with good-will on how he had to step up to the plate and took it upon himself to make up for the both of them.

“Leorio. Would you rather find your true love or a suitcase with fifteen billion jenny inside?” Kurapika spoke up as the questioner.

“Hah! At least make it a challenge! Obviously, the suitcase!” Leorio exclaimed as he rubbed his greedy palms while the three sets of eyes ogled him. “What?!”

“Money can’t buy you happiness, Leorio.” Kurapika reasoned.

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that. At least it’ll help me be miserable in comfort.” Leorio clipped. “You try sleepin’ out in the cold with no food.”

“Then would you rather have unlimited respect or unlimited money?” 

“Duh, Kurapika! Unlimited cash! Respect is just one of many perks of rolling in money.” Came the pert retort.

“Would you rather have unlimited money, power and respect or unlimited sex?” 

“Unlimited se-What?! Not cool, kid!” Leorio screeched at the unexpected slip of his tongue. “It’s against the rules to ask more than one question.” 

“And you figured that out after the third one?” Killua re-joined as he caught another chocorobo in his mouth. “Man, I’m seriously jealous of people who don’t know you.”

“You cocky little-Gon! Keep this brat under control!” Leorio cocked his head towards the chuckling albeit guilty hunter. “Or let me. I’ll bash that smugness right outta him!” A threat as useless as a glass hammer.

In principle, Gon was the de facto culprit for putting Killua on a pedestal and rewarding his petulance with adoration, anyway. Though Killua courteously took the blame for abusing it in full effect. Consequently, if Gon ever got in the mood to wise Killua up, the prodigy had tried-and-trusted ways to shut him right up. So, pushing aside Leorio’s aggravating outburst, Killua snitched the bottle, kissed it loyally and gave it a spin.

That betraying piece of shit.

“So, Killua.” Gon stepped up with an angelic smile while continuing to shuffle cards. “Ready?” 

Killua was free to quit. Instead he leaned forward, coolly resting his chin on his upturned palm, azures acting as bait for the amber hooks. 

“ _Try_ to surprise me.” 

Not his wisest move. 

At that, Gon stilled for a good three seconds before performing the sleight of hand in one swift motion, a classical waterfall card flourish. Once, then twice. Mastered to perfection. Self-assured of retaining Killua’s attention, he eventually placed the deck on the table.

“Would you rather kiss your _lover_ in public or never get to touch him, _ever_?”

The brisk shockwave that swept over Killua blurred the other two heads instantly swerving his way and his own shriek, “The hell?!”. His embarrassment writhing like a reptile under his skin squeezed his heart, leaking hues of fresh crimson along his neck and striking cheekbones.

“Attaboy, Gon! This is your payback for name-calling me, you cheeky brat!” Leorio punched the air with wasteful force. “Never knew you had it in you, kid! I better watch it, or you may surpass me one day.” He guffawed, ruffling Gon’s hair adoringly. 

“In what, exactly? Gon has already surpassed you in everything along the lines of possibility.” Kurapika chimed in.

“I was talking seduction skills, Kurapika!” Leorio slapped his knee in annoyance. “I’m an inborn charmer but how would you know? Takes one to know one.” He hmphed.

“Oh please, Leorio. Gon was already much more charming than you even back when he was just a child. But now, comparing you and Gon is like comparing night and day, sour and sweet, right and plain wrong or…new and old, to be more precise. The list can go on, but I believe I’ve made my point.” Kurapika voiced his humble opinion—riling him up calculatedly—while leafing through the pages of the flabby book he'd located earlier, a clever tactic to dodge the daggers being thrown by Leorio’s puckered eyes.

“Oh yeah? He may be an eye-catching little runt, but I bet I can swoon you before five minutes are up.” Leorio proposed instead, jouncing forward in Kurapika’s face, half-sprawled on the table and more than a little plastered.

Meanwhile, the duo had tuned out the mindless banter in the background, altogether. In spite of Killua fighting shy from acknowledging what those evoking ambers had imprinted on him, he had known the instant their lives collided in the keen hands of destiny; 

Gon was Killua’s weakness.

Killua was Gon’s necessity.

Nonetheless, there was a marginal downside to this deduction.

While weaknesses could be curbed,

 _Needs had to be met._

“Why do you wanna know?” Killua prodded sparingly.

“Curious.” Gon shrugged.

“Hmm…” Indolence was key to get the whip hand over the enhancer. So, Killua _casually_ reached for his neck, the honeyed orbs trailing the pale hand as it slowly dipped the platinum chain inside his tank-top. "Haven't you ever heard, Gon? 'Curiosity killed the cat'.”

“Really?” Killua’s eyes arced into slits at the mock astonishment on Gon's face. The moment passed and the ball fell in the raven's court. Playing on words, Gon flung one elbow over the back of his chair and brought a well-crafted lupine smirk to the fore.

“It’s good I’m more of a dog, then.” 

By no stretch of the imagination could Gon and sophistication share the same sentence, _ever_. Gon let the ball fly high over Killua's fences, standing by at the ready. Still, Killua debated whether to drop the catch. After all, he’d rather thrust himself into boiling stew than humour Gon’s obnoxious wordplay.

"The kind that's all bark and no bite?" Born ready with a comeback, in the end, he just couldn't resist catapulting the ball right back, coated in _lethal_ threat.

Wisely, Gon never caught the ball, raising his eyebrows instead when Killua preened in his face with a victory grin. Then again, Gon and submission didn't exactly go hand in hand, either.

Thus, an intensified smirk aligned Killua’s only to outshine his own while smouldering irises fell below his face, feasting upon the pale neck, or rather on an almost faded yet all the more evocative love _bite_.

On the dot, Killua decoded the message inscribed in those triumphant ambers once they rerouted back to his azures;

_'You tell me.'_

“When will you two grow up?" Killua blinked as Kurapika’s voice slashed through the battle of will between the two _friends_ , unknowingly.

“Not easy being a sore loser, eh? Welcome to the real world where you can’t win everything, kid. And Kurapika, don’t deflect! Or are you just too scared to be wooed by me?” 

With a sigh, Kurapika inserted a discoloured bookmark before shutting the book and placing it on his lap with nettled motions. “Believe me when I say this, Leorio. I’m doing you a favour.”

“Hah?!”

“By saving you the humiliation.” Kurapika monotoned as he crossed his arms. “Anyway Killua, it’s still your turn.” 

Astoundingly, Gon was the first to break away from the fretful cerulean voids. “You can quit if it’s too hard for you.” He added noncommittally while kneading his left shoulder, tough and exposed. “I’m sure we’ll all understand, Killua. You’re just not on my level.”

Gon was blatantly rousing Killua and it would’ve worked to precision as well. Except, Killua’s psyche enabled him to act methodically rather than chucking his spice-covered chopsticks in his—adversely hot—boyfriend’s face. 

Thus, Killua inhaled deeply to simmer down, opting to act like a sensible, no-nonsense adult—unlike the enhancer—and only submitted to his rational intuition.

Kicking _hard_ in Gon’s shin under the table.

Maturity could wait another day. 

How risibly gratifying it would’ve been if not for the lack of even a minute sign of pain on those proud features.

Or the timely well-balanced curve of lips. 

Or how his ankle was now held hostage by a durable hand.

“Gon.” Killua whirred, feverishly albeit discreetly twisting his confined ankle but to no avail.

“Okay, boys! We’re taking five.” Leorio interrupted the undisclosed skirmish under the table. “You’re about to witness Kurapika crumble under my seductiveness.”

“Why do I find that so hard to beli-” Killua’s taunt got held up by his own muted gasp as the bold visitor chillingly travelled along his now highly sensitized lower calf, dragging the fabric along. Slanted blues promptly shot a hard-edged terrorizing glare in the raven’s direction only to be received with an expression emitting rays of innocent bewilderment. 

_I'll skin you alive, Freecs._

“Fine by me, but you’ll have no right to complain when you lose, Leorio.” Kurapika forewarned.

“You’re on, blondie. It’s not like I care since I’ll be coming out as a winner, anyway.” Leorio beamed and gave two dramatic claps. “Watch and learn, boys. You’ll thank me one day.” Leaving no room for argument, Leorio leapt from his seat—slightly tipsy—and gaudily made his way over to the Kurta. Kneeling down on one knee, he held out a hand. 

“Kurapika, you can spit it out now.” 

The Kurta raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“The magnet cause it’s impossible to be this attractive.” 

Favourably for Killua, the sly hand halted its advance on his limb as they both blinked at each other.

“You’re not as bad as I thought, old man.” Killua remarked around the two chocorobos dwindling in his mouth. 

“See Kurapika?!! Someone appreciates my talen-”

“You’re a hell of a lot worse.” 

“You-Shut up, brat! I’m just gettin’ started!” Leorio cried out, leaving a particular buzzing in Killua’s ears like a swarm of bees. “Anyway, Kurapika. Here I am. What were your other two wishes?”

“Okay, just let me think why I wasted my first one.” Kurapika stifled an oncoming laugh upon seeing Leorio’s shaking form and pursed lips, desperately shrivelling another earthquake worthy yell. 

Meanwhile, Killua breathed a sigh of relief when he felt the hot grip ease up, enough to wrench his foot away and break-free.

He didn’t.

How could he when the allaying chestnut fingers gliding along his vanilla skin nulled his bubbling suspicions like a dose of sedative, unwinding the coiled ringlets of anxiety. Gon’s unpredictability and pliancy to blend in every milieu was one of his many pulls that drew Killua in. 

Though he decidedly let Leorio figure out the hard way. 

“As a medical professional, it is my duty to educate you of a disease called ‘Beautiful’. I think you may be infected, Kurapika.” 

“In your face, Gon! See?! I told you people _do_ exist without brains." Killua accentuated by pointing his chopsticks in Leorio's direction. "He keeps on proving it by opening his damn mou-"

“Gon.” Leorio banged his fist on the table. “I swear to God, I _will_ haul his pretty ass out the window!!!”, he bellowed across the whole cosmos.

“Killua, be nice.” Gon admonished Killua spiritlessly who just presented his uncanny Cheshire grin followed by a peace—slash victory—sign. Sighing, he gave an encouraging pat on Leorio’s back with an apologetic smile on Killua’s behalf. “Sorry, Leorio”.

“The little punk…what was I sayi-oh yeah.” Leorio snapped a finger and the agony resumed. “Kurapika. What if I told you that even if there wasn't any gravity on earth, I'd still fall for you.” 

“Look, Leorio. I appreciate the effort, but you’re just not cut out for flirting or whatever this is.” Kurapika related with amused features.

“Oh I see, playing hard to get, eh?” Leorio tilted his head forward till his glasses slid to the end of his nose. “Kurapika, you should know that my feelings for you are like diarrhoea. I just can't hold em’ in.”

Killua facepalmed himself while Gon banged his head on the table. 

Out of options, the old geezer was just puking one deplorable shitty line after another. Somewhere during this fiasco, Kurapika had intelligibly returned to his book, paying no respect to the squiffy lanky form. Thus, blotting his forehead with a handkerchief, Leorio’s frown lines gave away his mounting crankiness. “Kurapika, just so you know, when someone’s flirting with you, you’re SUPPOSE TO COOPERATE!!” 

All three winced at the volume though couldn’t contain their revived chorused laughter at how sharply Leorio had wheeled from _seductive_ to self-destructive like a cutting breeze of hell.

“I understand that babies can be dropped on their heads, but you were clearly thrown at a wall, and for good reason.” Kurapika commented while flipping another densely inked page.

“HEY! It’s not my fault that you have no heart and definitely no soul!” Leorio snapped as he guzzled the remaining beer.

“Maybe that, or you could always get your head out of your ass and swallow your pride, if there’s any left.” Killua chipped in. Done for now, he pitched his empty chocorobo-kun box in the trash—Leorio’s bowl of precious potpourri assortment of dried petals—and turned his attention to the enhancer. 

Azures blinked at ebony locks as Gon’s forehead still laid on the table. “Oi, Gon. I’m gonna go make something. This might take-” Killua gently tugged his ankle out of the warm hand.

“A while?” Gon offered.

“Forever.” Killua corrected. 

He began heading for the open-plan kitchen at the rear end of the lounge to mooch some cocoa and any other high-priced shit while he was at it. 

“Oye, Killua! don’t you wanna see my masterpiece act that will turn this high-maintenance blondie into putty in my hands?” Leorio called after him.

“Yeah, it’s a tough call but I’d rather stick needles in my eyes than go through that.” 

“Kurapika.” Midway, Killua absently glimpsed in the voice’s direction.

“Yes, Gon?” Kurapika peeked over his depressingly oversized book.

“Leorio’s right.”

“Excuse me?” 

“I don’t know how this stuff works, never tried it.” It was mercifully factual. Gon never used oblique methods, elaborate words or cheap shots. He was an all or none nature of a being, blunt and spontaneous like an unsolicited thought. “But I guess it would’ve been easier if he just came out with it. The truth, I mean.” 

“Truth?” Kurapika paused his reading as Gon finally lifted his head to gaze at him with a steady purpose like a luminous candlelight in a cave. “If he thinks that’s all it takes to win someone over-”

“you’re above all this.” 

Kurapika blinked, assessing the resolute tone capable of disquieting any sane mind like a storm-tossed ship. Gradually, he allowed a deceiving smile to consume his frown. “If you say so.” 

Kurapika laughed it off.

Gon didn’t.

“I don’t get to see you that often, so might as well just say it now. He's kinda right. You truly are a sight, Kurapika. In fact, you’re one of the most attractive people I know and not just in the looks department.” Gon went on soberly as he swiped the cards back up in his hands. “I guess I could ask you for something crazy like to go out at night and count the stars cause that’s how many years I could wait for someone like you.” 

Ramrod straight, slack-jawed and immersed in the personable raven, Kurapika appeared as though he could be knocked down with a feather. 

Until Gon laughed. “But that just makes no sense.”

Kurapika exhaled a breath and relaxed his pose, subtle as a marigold's whisper. 

“I know, Gon.” 

“No, you don’t.” 

Furrowing his brows, Kurapika meekly rubbed his forehead before letting out a strained chortle. “Your logic still fails us all, I see.” He addressed with a weary smile. “But I know it’s all meaningless. So, it’s fine, Gon.” 

“To me, it looks like you don’t know cause you’ll run out of stars and even then, you’ll be worth waiting for, Kurapika. Learn your value.” 

If Killua didn’t know any better, he’d bet his life that Gon was completely _smitten_ with the Kurta.

“I-you this, well…” Taken aback by the flurry of reflective emotions, the epitome of tranquillity—Kurapika—stammered incoherently before finally conceding with a heartfelt laugh. 

“Whoever you’ll end up with will be fortunate to have you, Gon.” 

With that, Gon leaned slightly forward, fanned out the cards with a flick of his wrist and angled his head towards a temporarily forgotten prodigy.

There and then, Killua received a rude awakening.

Not from Kurapika’s words,

But from a risqué smirk,

And an amber wink.

_Jackass._

_________________________________

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
_________________________________  


Looking forward to his brew, Killua was foraging for the custom-made mug that Leorio had graciously bought for him, specifically—before their arrival—with a clever logo;

 _‘Please Wait…Sarcasm In Progress.’_ That coupled with a blue bar signifying _‘87% complete’_ was undeniably witty. 

Later, all hilarity went down the drain as he recalled how Gon had swaggered along with steaming hot coffee in his own gifted mug with a _not-so-clever_ logo;

 _‘C’mere and Blow Me.’_

Waiting for the water to boil in Leorio’s unsettlingly hygienic kettle, he could hear the faint voices floating in the air, nearly drowning the jazz music on the old geezer’s outmoded amp. Once Leorio had picked his jaw back up after Gon’s directness—'lack of creativity’—he decided to romp up and go all out. Funnily enough, Kurapika indulged. 

At this point, it was all fun and revelry where every one-liner was bundled with boisterous laughter. Still, the heartening tune of endearment sieving through the sham of _primeval_ ‘flirting’ was a mystery that needed no solving. 

“Man, I’m tired. Oye, Kurapika, any plans for the weekend?”

“No, not really.”

“Wanna make some?” 

That followed by Leorio’s eyebrow wiggle triggered yet another round of raucous cackles. 

Except, only two vocals made through Killua’s alerted senses. Confusedly, his eyes shifted to the lounge on the quest for a tan-

“I’m here.” By default, a relieved smile curled Killua’s lips at the smooth voice behind him. “What’re you making?” 

“Mocha. Want some?” 

“Nope. I’m craving something else.” Killua gripped his scavenged mug tighter.

“Save it. You had your little fun already. I’m not Kurapika.”

“Well yeah, it’s obvious. You’re Killua.” It went without saying that Gon had asked for the rock-hard elbow to his gut. Smirking at the satisfying grunt, Killua swivelled the sugar cannister towards him while the enhancer came around to stand beside him. Bending halfway, Gon rested his forearms on the laminated counter, eyeing the couple giggling in the lively lounge, their backs facing the kitchen. “They say joy never hurts. Just saying.”

“Yeah? They also say happiness blinds more than pride.” Killua countered, scanning the work-top for the lip-smacking cocoa. " _Just saying._ "

“May..be, but you being a killjoy doesn’t make me wrong. I meant what I said, Killua.” Gon recapped while still grinning at the two—presumed—adults fooling around. “He deserves it.” 

In time, Killua followed Gon’s line of sight and couldn’t help but chuckle himself, rolling his eyes.

“Your lips look so lonely, Kurapika. Would they like to meet mine?” 

“You’re a lost case, Leorio.” 

Naturally, Killua’s attention got selfishly stolen by the four fingers tapping on the counter. “So, about that craving of mine…” 

And Killua got the gist.

Luckily, neither had noticed the younger absentees yet, giving Killua some leeway to work with. At once, he put on a cold face, chilled his voice and froze his body. 

“Back down, Freecs. You’ve literally walked into a wall of ice.”

A glance flitted his way like a falcon, direct and defiant. “Do I hear a challenge?”

Before Killua could _accidentally_ overturn the cocoa tin on Gon’s head as an appropriate reply, the abrupt lack of a figure was nowhere near the jurisdictions of his forecast. He allowed it all the same. Scooping cocoa till his mug was roughly half-full, he reached for the kettle-

An ice cube was gently placed on the counter, 

Only to be smashed with a fist, crushed into stranded crystals. 

“The hell, Gon?! Have you lost it?!” If not before, now the older hunters had their eyes jammed on the lovers under wraps.

“Had to make a point.” 

“What point?! That you broke the ice between us?” Killua hissed, eyes darting back and forth between the lounge and Gon. “That’s so cliché, idiot. Just give up.”

Yet, Gon’s wide stance and steeled expression communicated a quality of brazen conviction. “Well, no. People can break the ice, Killua.” The next instant, the words got experienced as a tantalizing breath on the soft slope of his neck. “I know how to melt one.” 

Truth be told, he already did.

Bathed in his moonstruck phase, Killua could’ve rolled his head back and melted away in the heat of the moment. He could’ve let himself dissolve in warm arms and slip through tan fingers like water only to be vaporised by furnaced yearnings. Hell, it took every ounce in him not to.

Knowing not a single drop would be wasted; An impassioned soul more than willing to get drunk off his very being.

Yet, anxiety hung over Killua like a monsoon cloud showering caution upon him. So, he turned a blind eye to Gon instead. His hands held the counter’s ledge to mask his unsteady form from the overpowering attention. Habitually, he was never one for public displays of affection regardless of his vexatious attempts to adapt—for Gon.

He was relatively eased in mind upon noting the older hunters having resumed their talkfest, oblivious to his predicament. Pushing himself to peel off the wrappings of self-deprecation wound tightly around his chest left him breathless and delirious. 

Usually, his emotions were malleable to his willpower akin to the copper wires often found in his hands, transmuting electricity to life. Yes, it hurt but was tolerable at most. That is, until he was left to judge how far his nerves were calculated to fathom one elemental reality. 

The worst of it all;

Gon was in the know.

Killua felt the light dim around him, just a tad. Abiding his demand, the calming aura generously ‘backed down’, leaving the pulsating neck alone. 

The needs forfeited for Killua’s sake. _And his sake only._

“Gon…” 

_Stop_. He did not say.

Yet, the pale grip clasping the firm wrist, did. 

With Gon, oddities were becoming routine. So, Killua added one more in the heap.

Bearing down his insecurities and baseless fears, he let the hesitancy slip off him like a cast-off cloak. 

“I’d do it.” 

“Do what?” 

Killua bit his lip. The words fled from him, anyway. 

“In public. _You asked.”_

_______________________________

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~  
_______________________________

Erratic as the path of a tornado, Killua couldn’t catch the drift of what happened next. Then one by one, he started piecing it together. 

Seated on the counter, pale hands had somehow sought purchase on strong shoulders as he was pinned in place by the raven now anchored between his legs, forcing them apart. Finally, he was confronted by the sight of a figure crouching down, levelled with the bemused sapphires. 

Except, the eyes were sealed. 

“I know you’d do it.” Gon enunciated with not a care in the world as scorching hands spread his thighs further to adjust himself, _comfortably_. “What I wanna know is whether you’d _want_ to? There’s a difference.” 

Daringly, Gon pressed himself further into him and struck a chord from within Killua, on the borderline between a sigh and a moan.

“Does it even matter?” _Not to Killua._

At that, the eyelids unsealed, showcasing thinly rimmed gold. When that deepened stare, indefinably bestial, connected his lips, Killua had no motive left to act alarmed if he got _wrecked_ that very instant. 

With all sincerity, he’d let him. 

Instead, Killua was answered by a few inches of gained air as the raven gradually pulled away. Taut muscles vigilantly locked in place as a mere side-effect to Killua’s proximity. 

Killua was no longer a stranger to witnessing all that brute strength being expended to its fullest only to be gentle, guarded even. The reactions he could incite out of Gon, just by living and breathing by his side, revealed how there was never a need to make an extra effort. 

Existing was all it took, really.

Hence, marking the visceral period, without purpose or need, he rashly hooked a finger in the raven’s gold chain, yanking him back with a vigour that would’ve crashed their lips if not for Gon’s palms slamming the counter on either side of Killua’s thighs. 

Coming to a halt at a hairsbreadth from Killua’s lips. 

“Were you just gonna leave me _hanging_?" Killua purred. "I'm offended, Gon. Thought Mito taught you better manners than that.” 

__

Hooded eyes fastened to each other's lips, drenched in want. 

__

“Trust me, Killua. That’s exactly why I need to leave.” 

__

All of Gon’s might, influence and pride pulverised just by his kittenish looks and flushed allure kindled an affectionate laugh. Killua's laugh, a soft note skirting between melody and astral until it became as faint as a memory when he finally caught on.

Gon was on the cusp of losing his balance from the cliff of decency into raging torrents of wantonness, eager to sink in the ashen depth.

__

Craning his neck, Killua placed a soft kiss on Gon’s temple before laying his forehead on the raven’s.

__

“Gon. Look at me.” The sapphires waited till the ambers infused in them.

Then he stoked the fire.

__

“What would you want from me if you knew the answer was yes?”

_Why can't you tell? There’s nothing left of me that’s not yours already._

However, the words turned traitors, escaped his voice and clung to his throat. So, Killua put his faith on time instead to convey his resolve. 

Still, he couldn’t even begin to measure the laboriousness in the action as Gon swallowed. 

“I can only be honest, Killua.”

“I’m counting on you to be.”

Brusquely, a face slanted sideways, angled against Killua’s. 

“Truth is, I don’t have an answer, not yet. I'm sorry.”

The raven was treated with a fond smile, anyway. "You don't play fair, Gon."

Dipping in for the yielding corner of Killua’s lips, Gon mirrored his smile, only more tender. "I know, but maybe you're better off not knowing."

Too distant from his lips to be branded a kiss, too tangible a touch to be canned as his mind’s own deception. 

"Why's that?" Killua lilted.

At that, Gon reeled back a bit. Painstakingly, his right hand glided from Killua’s thigh to rest on his hip.

"Cause... _not knowing_ what I want from you…"

Gon was struggling very hard, desperately seizing hold of his meandering thoughts to frame a response. At least a logical enough response to measure up to Killua's standard.

So, instead of flicking his forehead, Killua waited. For Gon, he could be as patient as night was for the break of dawn.

If Gon wanted five more minutes from Killua, he could have five more lifetimes in its place.

"Or..the lengths I could go _for you_ …"

Turned out, five beats was all he needed. 

“Sometimes, that terrifies even me, Killua.”

.

Apparently, it was easier to fall than climb back up.

Perhaps, that's why they kept falling for each other all over again, and again.

Ignorant of how something always suffered along the way.

Somehow, the bones in Killua's body withstood every fall.

Left alone one day, he heard a shatter. So, he peered inside. 

Luckily, everything was fine, yet again.

Except for fragments of a broken heart, piercing through his bleeding soul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...apologies for disappointing cuz I know you were looking forward to the current story but can't enjoy the present without knowing some past. Anyhow, another chap baked for all the encouraging feedback/kudos etc. that've led to 5 chaps already. Your welcoming response really helped me commit to this fic :)
> 
> Safe spoiler: The 'grand event' is the _turning point_ (so much ground to cover). Anyway, would really love to hear your thoughts!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey again! At first, I wasn't going to post my crappy writing at all but weirdly, I started having fun writing this so I thought if you enjoy even a fraction of this, it'll be worth it. Would love to hear your thoughts! Apologies since it's not proof-read but I will come around to fix it.


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